


Discipline at the Devils' Den

by FeralScribe



Series: Widomauk Week 2019 Prompts [3]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Asexual Caleb Widogast, BDSM, Caleb Widogast Needs a Hug, Caleb's Backstory Angst, Catharsis, Crying, Cute Ending, Discipline, Dom Mollymauk, Don’t copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Essek Theylss, Falling In Love, Fire, Fire play, Hurt/Comfort, Ice, Licking, Master/Pet, Modern AU, Molly works at a fetish club, No Sex, Non-binary Mollymauk Tealeaf, Other, Pet Play, Punishment, Scars, Scratching, Spanking, Sub Caleb Widogast, Tail Play, Temperature Play, Trauma, Whipping, Widomauk Week 2019, and even then it's not so much of a kink as it is Caleb needing an outlet for his emotional pain, cameo appearance by Xhorhas's own Hot Boi, hot wax, just kink, the chapters are so long because neither of them wants the story to end, these two are so into each other you guys, through the magic of dom/sub dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-04-06 11:50:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 29,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19062085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeralScribe/pseuds/FeralScribe
Summary: What do you do when you've run out of ways to punish yourself? Hire a professional. However, while Mollymauk might not be exactly the dominant Caleb expected, they are precisely what he needs.





	1. Chapter 1

Caleb Widogast may be a despicable loathsome irredeemable garbage heap of a human being, but he is a being nonetheless. He has needs that he has denied himself for years as part of his self-punishment, and recently they’ve been driving him crazier than usual. His therapist has told him on several occasions that he is allowed to be nice to himself at least once a month. Supposedly from there he’ll work up to twice a month, then once a week, until he finds a way to be nice to himself every day. Caleb doesn’t want to be nice to himself. He doesn’t deserve nice things. However, his therapist also says the reason he has been feeling so out of sorts lately and hasn’t been able to concentrate on his work is because he is “touch starved”.

Dr. Brenatto had leaned in close to speak to him in hushed tones despite the fact that they were the only two people in the room. “I know you aren’t interested in dating,” she said, “so in cases like yours I would recommend…consulting a _different_ sort of professional.” She had winked at him, then sat back in her chair and finished their appointment with her usual reminders to take his medication and keep up with his journaling.

Caleb spent the rest of his day pondering her advice at home. At last he sat at his computer, opened an incognito browser window, and searched for adult services in the area. There is one a few towns over that sounds promising, the Devils’ Den BDSM Club. It hosts weekly social events for various fetish enthusiasts, but also functions as a nightclub and has a staff of trained BDSM experts that offer hands-on experiences, all of them from the more “ill-reputed” races. Scrolling through some of the pictures, Caleb sees several tieflings, drow, tabaxi, dragonborn, half-orcs and full-blooded orcs, a minotaur, and even a few succubi and incubi who have “INITIAL CONSULTATION REQUIRED” written under their photos.

It takes him an hour to muster up the courage to send an e-mail to the address provided on the club’s website. He then spends another ten minutes staring at the screen wondering if he should use a fake name for this. Since his first name is in his e-mail address anyway and he doesn't feel like setting up a different one just for this, he decides that it’s probably fine.

_Hello,_

_My name is Caleb. I was browsing your site and wondered if I could make an appointment. Do any of your staff specialize in punishment and humiliation without too much sexual contact? I am asexual and I have never done this before, but I am interested in the experience. I am not sex-repulsed, it is simply not something I enjoy. If you do not have anyone like that, that is fine. Perhaps I will come to one of your events instead and try it that way._

_Thank you for your time,_

_Caleb_

Caleb has absolutely no plans to go to any of the events at this place. His face is hotter than the sun and his heart is beating like he sprinted to the other side of the continent and back, just from sending this one e-mail. He would never survive being around so many other people in that sort of environment. He might not even survive one session with a single professional, but perhaps they won’t have anyone who can do what he wants and that will be the end of that. But he _is_ curious…

It shouldn’t surprise him that he gets a response despite the fact that it’s after 8pm, but it takes him a moment to reason that it _is_ a nightclub and therefore they don’t have the usual nine-to-five office hours.

_Hello Caleb,_

_First of all, I would like to thank you for reaching out to us and assure you that we cater to all sexualities, tastes, and levels of experience!_

_You did not specify gender, so I have organized this list into three categories based on whether the staff member identifies as male, female, or non-binary. They all work with beginners, and I also put asterisks next to the ones who I think best fit your request._

_Feel free to reply with any other questions you may have._

_Thank you again and we hope to see you soon!_

_Ms. Marion Lavorre (A.K.A. Grand Mistress Ruby)_

_Owner and Director of Operations, Devils’ Den Club_

_She/Her/Hers_

If he weren’t dizzy from his frantic heartrate before, Caleb certainly is now. He is glad that he is already sitting because all the blood has left his legs in favor of making him blush harder than he has in his entire life. He swallows and goes back to the club’s website to put faces to the names Ms. Lavorre listed.

Her photo is at the top of the page. She is a spectacularly stunning red-skinned tiefling. Even the curve of her horns is elegant. She is far _far_ out of Caleb’s league. He starts with the staff members she made special note of based on what he wanted. There are four female, one male, and two non-binary options. Caleb grows more and more intimidated with each one. However, it is the first person in her list of non-binary staff members that catches his attention.

Mollymauk Tealeaf. A tiefling. Lavender skin, red eyes, gorgeous tattoos adorning the right side of their body. In their photo, they are draped seductively across a chaise longue that is decorated with brightly colored silken sheets and intricately embroidered pillows. Sitting on a small table at the edge of the picture is a dragon-shaped incense holder from which smoke trails up and over Mollymauk’s body as though drawn to them by their sheer alluring nature. Mollymauk is wearing tight leggings and a white fishnet top, as well as an impressive amount of jewelry on their horns, wrists, and even on their tail. What appeals to Caleb is the smirk Mollymauk is giving the camera. It is simultaneously condescending and enticing, as though to say, “Oh you poor dear, you think you’re worthy of me? Then come here and prove it.”

They’re perfect.

Riding the serotonin rush that is sure to run out any moment, Caleb writes back to Ms. Levorre to schedule an appointment with Mollymauk. As he suspected, not a minute after he sends the e-mail with his preferred date and time, he hits the crash and it leaves him sitting at his desk with a deep sense of dread.

“ _Was zum Geier hab ich gerade getan?_ ”

* * * *

The club is a forty-five minute bus ride in the opposite direction from where Caleb works, but there’s still a chance he could run into a coworker or one of their regular customers. Caleb keeps his head down, staring at the map on his phone, counting down the steps until he reaches his destination. He’s sweating profusely under his patchy old coat, even though the autumn evening air stings his ears with a chill that promises a rough winter ahead. His throat is dry and the butterflies in his stomach feel like they’re all drunk to the point of puking.

The Devils’ Den is in what looks like a former two-story warehouse, though it has been cleaned up and painted black on the outside. A simple neon sign above the door confirms that Caleb is in the right place. Due to the bus schedule he is twenty minutes early for his appointment, so he circles the block to kill time. After the second lap he realizes how suspicious he looks. He swallows the nerves bundled up in his throat and enters the building.

The interior could not be more different from the exterior. It’s warm and the walls are polished wood with various flashy flyers and posters advertising upcoming events, both at the club and in the community. Instead of the fading dusk light there are strings of colored LEDs hung from where the walls meet the ceiling of the entry hallway as well as a row of florescent lights down the center, providing a bright friendly path towards the front desk.

The desk’s countertop is littered with pamphlets, free stickers of assorted logos and pride flags, and a punch bowl of condoms. Behind the desk is a male drow with short yet well-coifed white hair. His bright piercing eyes flick up from his laptop to Caleb and time seems to slow for a second or two. He smiles.

“How can I help you?”

Caleb fiddles with the frayed hems of his sleeves. “I— I er, um, h-hhhave a session booked with um, M-Mollymauk? F-F-For six o’clock?”

The drow smiles wider. He is unfairly pretty in his deep purple off-the-shoulder shirt that perfectly displays his collarbones and the geometric pendant on a silver chain across his neck. “Excellent. You’re a little early. Fill out these forms for me, if you would please.” He places a clipboard on the raised portion of the desk. It’s a standard consent form with an extra page stating that Caleb is aware of what he is getting himself into and won’t sue the club if he gets injured. Caleb signs them and hands them back. “Thank you,” says the drow. “You’re free to visit the bar, or simply take a seat in the lounge area. I’ll let them know you’re here.”

“Erm, thank you.”

Caleb chooses the lounge. It is partially occupied, but no one pays him any mind besides checking the new source of movement. Caleb sits on a maroon velvet armchair, hands folded and tucked between his knees. There’s a large woman in leather and smoky make-up a few seats over with a human who could be female or non-binary or both sitting in her lap. A blue tiefling in a frilly little dress prances across the room from the bar, leading a half-orc man on a leash who looks both subservient and smitten. The club has yet to reach its peak hours, but there are already a few groups of people hanging around dancing to the music playing from speakers on the other side of the open space. Caleb feels wholly out of his element. He checks his phone frequently and prays someone comes for him soon.

Even so, he is startled when someone calls his name. “Caleb Widogast?” The voice is smooth, accented, hovering between tenor and bass. Caleb turns and freezes at the sight of the figure watching him curiously. The camera didn’t capture a tenth of their presence. Today, Mollymauk Tealeaf is in black vinyl pants and a mesh halter top, standing tall over Caleb in four-inch heeled knee-high black boots. Their eyes are accentuated by shimmering teal eyeliner and eyeshadow that matches their peacock tattoo. Their nails and lips are painted a similar shade to their eyeliner, and on anyone else it might seem gaudy or absurd yet it only adds to their beauty. Silver bands gleam on the top arch of their horns and holes drilled near the bottom are hung with little silver charms. When their tail swishes into Caleb’s view he notes matching cuffs near its tip. Caleb gulps in a breath to try to speak and gets a lungful of scented air that tastes like sandalwood and jasmine. He simply nods. The gorgeous vision before him grins with gleaming white teeth and gives him a sweeping bow. “Mollymauk Tealeaf, at your service. I hear you’re in need of some punishment today?”

“ _J-Ja_ ,” Caleb chokes.

Mollymauk takes him by the chin. Caleb is stunned by the sudden contact but his heart thuds a heavy pulse of delight into his blood. They lean over to be eye-to-eye with him while maintaining their imposing stance. Those eyes… “You don’t look much like a bad boy, but why don’t you come with me and you can tell me all your dirty secrets?”

Caleb nearly stammers out a protest. He’s not here to tell secrets. Something in Mollymauk’s voice flows into his mind, a disarming caress that reduces his will to putty in their hand. He gets to his feet. Mollymauk traces their fingers down from his jaw, over his throat, and tugs the collar of his shirt. Without a word, they walk towards another hallway out of the lounge. Caleb follows obediently behind them.

They go up a flight of metal stairs. How Mollymauk maintains their balance in those boots, Caleb can’t fathom. Then again, his thoughts are all jumbled from trying to comprehend this tiefling in general. If Caleb were inclined to sexual urges he might be rock hard by now. Instead, he is mesmerized by all their beautiful details, the curve and texture of their horns, the array of tattoos across their back and shoulders, the sway of their gait and the movement of their tail that reminds Caleb of his cat. Whatever they’re about to do to him, Caleb knows he’s in for a treat. He can justify giving himself something nice if that something nice intends to punish him.

Caleb is so lost in his musings that he almost bumps into Mollymauk when they pause to open a door. “Right this way,” Mollymauk says. They pull him into the room and shut the door behind him.

It’s not what Caleb was expecting. There are no chains hanging from the ceiling, no torture devices; in fact aside from the tidy display of whips and paddles and handcuffs, this could be an ordinary — although exceptionally fragrant — bedroom. The room is small, perhaps only twelve feet by twelve feet. The walls are painted a soft midnight blue and a light is affixed to the white ceiling. It it furnished with a single twin-sized bed with turquoise silk sheets and many throw pillows in shades of blue and green, two wooden chairs with purple upholstery, a matching shag rug, the set of drawers on which Mollymauk’s equipment is placed, and there is even a black mini fridge in the corner. Caleb isn’t sure where the scent is coming from, but every breath he takes is laced with the smoky aroma of sandalwood. It makes Caleb panic at first, thinking something in the room is burning, but Mollymauk doesn't remark on it at all. The tiefling themself exudes the calming scent of jasmine, and whenever they move they stir it into the air. They sit in one of the chairs and gesture for Caleb to sit in the other.

“We’re going to establish some ground rules first,” Mollymauk says. “This doesn’t count towards your half-hour, though hopefully it won’t take more than a few minutes.”

Caleb shuffles into the chair. His face must be bright red right now. He wants to take his coat off but he doesn’t know where to put it. He doesn’t want to do anything unless Mollymauk tells him to do it.

Mollymauk crosses one long elegant leg over the other and drapes an arm over the back of their chair. Their red eyes seem to glow as they observe Caleb. “Do you want your clothes off or on for the session?” they ask.

“Erm, I-I’m not entirely opposed to uh, to nudity.” It would make him uncomfortable, but it wouldn’t count as punishment if he enjoyed it too much.

“Do you like kissing?”

“It’s…nice.”

Mollymauk grins with that smirk from the photo, the one that makes Caleb feel small yet encouraged. “Darling, if you only give me vague answers then I can’t help you.” They get up, pluck a riding crop off the drawers, then sit back down in the same posture. “First rule: you will answer me clearly, or you will be struck. Yes?”

Caleb swallows. “ _Ja_. Er, yes.”

The grin shifts subtly. It’s more approving. “Good. Now, do you like kissing?”

Caleb has not kissed or been kissed in years. He finds himself drawn to this tiefling’s painted lips, though. “Yes.”

“Do you want me to leave marks? Welts? Hickeys? Scratches?”

“I— Not where anyone can see, a-and I would prefer not to draw any blood.”

“But I am allowed to strike you with enough force to bruise you?”

“Yes.”

“Is that what you want me to do?”

“…Yes.”

“Why did you hesitate?”

Caleb swallows again. His mouth keeps filling with saliva even though his throat is painfully dry. “I-I-I have never done this before. I am not sure what I like and do not like. I just know that I…that I want it to hurt.”

Mollymauk blinks those arresting red eyes. “Do you think you deserve to be hurt?”

“Yes.” No hesitation this time.

“Are you a bad person?”

“…I am not a good person.”

In a blur of lavender skin, Mollymauk whips Caleb on the thigh. “Too vague, darling.”

“I— I have done bad things. I have…hurt people, done… _terrible_ things b-because I thought it…it would be funny to…hurt them." Caleb swallows, repressing the memory for now. "I don’t do those things anymore, and I have t-tried to be better, but I deserve to be hurt for what I did.”

Mollymauk whips him again, harder. “But are you a bad person, yes or no?”

“…Yes.”

Mollymauk stands and takes a step over to Caleb. They grip him by the back of his head and kiss him forcefully on the mouth. Caleb tenses, unsure what to do. Their lips are so warm. The scent of jasmine is hot in his nose. It spreads through his body and sends his head spinning like he’s on a carnival ride. A tiny rush of blood pulses through his cock. He isn’t hard in any sense, but his body appreciates this nonetheless. Gods, he forgot how good kissing was. It’s too good for the likes of him. As though in response to this thought, Mollymauk bites his lip hard enough to make him yelp.

“Then I will hurt you, Caleb,” they say. “I will hurt you for every wrong you have ever committed.” They settle back into their seat. The color on their lips is still flawless. “I was told you don’t want sexual contact, but do you want me to avoid touching your genitals entirely? Or may I hurt you there as well?”

“You may hurt me however you see fit.” Anticipating a strike from the riding crop, Caleb quickly adds. “So yes, you may touch my…privates.”

“You’re learning.” Mollymauk smiles, unnerving and comforting at once. “You’re already getting better. Now, last question: Will you do anything and everything I tell you to, unless it is outside of your comfort zone?”

“Yes.” Absolutely. It’s as though a switch has gone off somewhere in the depths of Caleb’s mind. He is relaxed and alert, ears open for whatever orders Mollymauk gives him but otherwise willing to submit to whatever happens in this room.

“Good boy,” Mollymauk says. “If I _do_ leave your comfort zone and you want me to stop entirely, your safeword is ‘winter’. If I leave your comfort zone, but you’re okay to keep going at an easier level, your slow word is ‘summer’. Repeat those back to me.”

“My safeword is ‘winter’. My slow word is ‘summer’.”

Mollymauk brandishes the riding crop in a mostly non-threatening way. “And under _what_ circumstances would you use either word?”

“‘Winter’ is for when I want you to stop. ‘Summer’ is for…for when I don’t want to stop but I am not comfortable with the current intensity.”

“Very good. Do you have any questions for me before we begin?"

Caleb is having a hard time thinking. He can answer Mollymauk's simple questions because he has an inexplicable urge to do whatever the tiefling says. However, trying to get his brain working on its own again is a struggle. He knows he had questions before he came here, he just can't remember them. "Um…er uh…what— What do I call you? Master or…or…" The only things he can think of are all gendered terms, and he doesn't want to offend Mollymauk by assuming which side of the binary they identify with more.

Fortunately they don't seem bothered. "'Mollymauk' is fine," they say. "You're not my slave or bitch or anything like that while you're here. You're more of…a guest." They smile placidly, but their fangs are on full display and Caleb can't help but stare at them for a second or two. "I want you to think of me as a friend, Caleb. It won't seem like it at times, but I  _am_ your friend."

"Of course," Caleb says with a relieved smile of his own. He doesn't have many friends. Come to think of it, he doesn't have any, only acquaintances through work. He would like to have a friend so gorgeous and glorious as Mollymauk, even if it's only for a short time. Pathetic. The only way he can befriend someone is to pay them to punish him. Mollymauk doesn't care one way or the other about him. They are only doing their job.

"Anything else?" they ask.

"Oh…um…I… I don't believe so, no." 

Mollymauk nods. "Well, if you have any concerns during the session, feel free to stop me and let me know. Now, if you're ready, on your feet. Strip everything from the waist up.”

Caleb obeys. He lays his clothes neatly over the back of the chair. Mollymauk circles him, examining him, occasionally tapping him with the riding crop, gentle at first but a tiny bit harder every time. Their boots make them nearly a head taller than he is. Caleb is satisfactorily intimidated. He shrinks into himself under Mollymauk’s gaze. His body bears the evidence of his transgressions. Long-faded burn scars on his arms, blemishes caused by malnutrition and poor hygiene during those years when he stopped caring for himself, pale skin from staying indoors, away from people, quarantining himself so the disease of his past won’t infect anyone around him.

Mollymauk’s hand is warm on his back. Their palm slides up his spine. Then they rake their nails down in a hard harsh swipe. Caleb cries out, but his cry carries the edge of a moan. The pain is good. The pain is what he deserves.

“You are a bad person, Caleb.”

“ _Ja_ , yes I am, a _very_ bad person.”

Mollymauk grabs his balls through his pants and squeezes firmly. Their eyes flash as they stare into his. “Tell me what you did,” they growl.

Caleb makes a few choked noises through his gaping mouth, but aside from the tightness in his chest he also does _not_ want Mollymauk to know what happened. They might refuse to continue then send him away in horror and disgust. “Summer.”

They release their grip and repeat, “Tell me what you did.”

Caleb turns his head away. “…Summer.”

Mollymauk blinks in surprise. “Really?” They shrug. “Okay, then…tell me how you have punished yourself in the past.”

“I…I would barely eat enough food to survive for— f-for days. Weeks, even. I— I do not speak to people more than is necessary, be-because I do not deserve the company of n-normal people.”

A sharp slap across his face. “‘Normal people’?” Mollymauk hisses furiously. “Do you mean like humans and elves and halflings? Is that why you came here? Because you prefer the company of _freaks_?”

Caleb shakes his head, eyes wide and jaw quivering. He silently curses his choice of words. “Nn-n- _nein!_ I-I-I mm-mean people who aren’t…who didn’t…” A tear beads in his eye. The salt stings. “People who hhh-hhaven’t done what I have.”

That assuages Mollymauk’s ire. Their expression is still somewhat pinched, but they nod. “What have you done to improve yourself?”

“I started therapy this year,” Caleb says with as much optimism as he dares. “My therapist said I…I needed to see someone a-about my, erm, ‘touch starvation’, and _that’s_ why I came here.”

“Is that so?” Mollymauk lightly caresses where they slapped him. Caleb flinches at first, but the heat of their fingers trickles into his blood and pools in his chest and he yearns for more of it. Mollymauk snorts with a little smile. “So you, being the awful awful person that you are, decided the only way you should receive touch is if it hurts you?”

“Yes.”

Mollymauk flicks their thumbnail on his cheek. Caleb winces. Then Mollymauk kisses him on the forehead and his eyes roll back and droop shut. So this is their game; pain, reward, pain, reward, until Caleb is well trained. Caleb will play that game. He accepts this reward because he knows pain will follow. It’s a strange reversal of what one would normally hope for, but normal people aren’t tainted the way he is. Mollymauk’s lips linger just long enough that when they pull away Caleb whimpers softly. Somehow he expected it to last another half a second, and in not having that extra time his heart burns with disappointment.

They murmur into his ear, “You think you can come here, suffer a little, and then you’ll be forgiven?” Their tone is mocking, pitying. “That’s not how it works, darling.” They scratch down his chest, nails barely missing his nipple on either side. Caleb hisses through his teeth. “Forgiveness has to be _earned_. Get on your knees.”

Caleb lowers himself to the floor. He bows his head, arms loose at his sides, eyes closed.

“Caleb, say you’re sorry.”

“I am sorry.”

 _THWACK_ goes the riding crop against his side. “I don’t believe you. _Say you’re sorry_.”

Caleb thinks of his nightmares. He hears the screaming, hears himself screaming back. “I’m sorry!”

Another strike, harder. “Again!”

“ _I’m sorry!_ ”

Another. “Again!”

“ _Vater, Mutter, es tut mir sehr leid!_ ” Caleb’s chest heaves in a sob. He has only ever said that so loud in his dreams. There were nights when he would curl into a ball on his bed and say it between tears, but now it has been ripped out of him and left him emotionally raw. He collapses forward.

Mollymauk nudges a boot beside Caleb’s head. “Kiss it. Beg for forgiveness.”

Caleb scrambles to press his lips to the cool leather. “I’m sorry,” he whimpers, giving into these newfound urges. “I’m so sorry. I want to do good. I want to do better. Please, _please_ give me a chance.”

Long nails scrape through his hair. “Do you think you should be forgiven?”

Caleb shakes his head. “No. No, I can’t be forgiven.”

The touch turns gentle. “Yes you can. But you have to _earn it_.” Mollymauk comes down to one knee and yanks Caleb’s head up. Those smoldering red eyes burn down to his core. “Are you ready to earn it?”

“Yes.” If only it were possible. If only Mollymauk could beat the shame and sin away and leave him pure. The impurity is steeped into every fiber of him. It’s impossible. But he can atone. So long as he is properly punished, perhaps it can make up for enough of what he did that he can look his reflection in the eye again.

After pain comes reward. Mollymauk scritches his head in light massaging circles. Pleasant tingles dance through his brain and down his spine. Caleb sighs and impulsively leans into Mollymauk’s fingers the way Frumpkin does to him when he tickles the cat behind the ears. It’s at that moment that Mollymauk pulls his hand away.

“Now now, can’t enjoy it _too_ much just yet, Caleb. We’ve still got work to do.” Mollymauk goes to the mini fridge and retrieves what might have once been a pickle jar, though the label is removed and it now contains ice cubes. “Hold this,” they say. “Do not put it down, no matter what.”

Caleb takes the jar in both hands. The cold seeps into his fingers. It’s already a little painful. Condensation makes the glass slippery. He tightens his grip.

Mollymauk takes one ice cube from the jar. “Open your mouth.” Caleb does so, and Mollymauk puts the ice inside. “Close. Good, keep that there. Don’t swallow it until it’s all melted.”

The sudden chill in his mouth gives Caleb a headache. It’s not a particularly large ice cube, but he has to stretch his jaw to keep it from touching his palate. Mollymauk kneels beside him. They lightly scrape the tips of their nails on his back, making him shiver. Then they scratch him hard with one nail, right across the shoulder blade. They take an ice cube from the jar and run it along the stinging mark. Goosebumps flare in a ripple out from the point of contact. Caleb clenches his hands around the frigid jar. The scratch itself was painful, but the ice adds to it and the cold spreads across his skin, the numb ache carried through his blood until it succumbs to his body heat.

Another scratch, another, another, on his back, his chest, his arms, each one followed by a swipe of ice over the agitated skin. All the while Mollymauk speaks to him in a soft yet sinister tone, a thin layer of comforting sweetness wrapped around wicked intent that spikes to the surface whenever their nails rake across his skin.

“I know you don’t want to be a bad person, Caleb. Few people do. And _yet—_ ” Mollymauk emphasizes the word with a scratch, and does so every time their voice becomes sharper, “—so many people do so many bad things, and they all want forgiveness. What makes _you_ different from them, hm? What makes you special? I’ll tell you: _nothing_. There is nothing that sets you apart. You’re all wrapped up in your head, thriving on the notion that you’re a _monster_. Because if you’re not a monster, then what are you? Simply another flawed individual, and flaws can be fixed, can’t they? But you’re not fixed, you’re _broken_. And rather than take responsibility for your flaws and make amends for them, you want the _easy_ way out. You want someone else to absolve you of your sins, or _not_." Mollymauk holds the ice cube over the latest slash to Caleb's chest. They smirk as he breathes heavily to cope with the overwhelming stabbing sensation.

"That’s it, isn’t it Caleb? You won’t let yourself be forgiven. I could tell you right now that everyone in the world has agreed to forgive you, and you would _hate_ that, wouldn’t you?" They rake their other hand down his back on the word "hate", then treat it with the ice cube and continue as before. "It would mean you have to let go of your guilt, and your pain, and people like you _need_ your pain. That’s why you come to people like me. You don’t want to accept that you’re just like _everyone_ else, flawed and broken but able to make things right if you just put in the _effort_. It doesn’t take any effort to let someone else hurt you, does it? You know how to make me stop, but you _won’t_ , because you _want_ this. You think you deserve this, and maybe you do.” Mollymauk strokes the side of Caleb’s face. “Maybe behind those pretty eyes there _is_ a monster, but I think I know what there really is.” They curl their fingers and scratch long and hard along his jaw. “A _coward_.”

Caleb trembles, and it’s not just from the jar of ice that is now almost unbearable to hold. A tear forms and falls down his cheek.

Mollymauk takes one last ice cube from the jar, balances it in their palm, and caresses the newest scratch, hidden in his beard. So long as he doesn’t shave for a while, no one will see it. The melting water trickles through his hair, down this throat, over the many marks that now crisscross his torso. The cold numbs him so much he can barely feel Mollymauk’s fingertips.

He can feel the kiss. Mollymauk’s lips are burning hot compared to the ice. They kiss his cheek and the heat blooms through the numbness and the dull lingering sting. “Don’t worry, Caleb,” they murmur into his ear. Their hot breath tickles him and he closes his eyes to savor it. “We’re going to make you brave, you and I. By the time you leave here you’ll be so much stronger. Would you like that?”

Caleb nods. He sniffles.

Mollymauk’s expression softens, just barely, but enough to put Caleb at ease. They kiss him again and take the jar from his hands. “You did very well, darling. You’re stronger already, see? If I had asked you at the start of this how long you thought you could have endured that, you wouldn’t have guessed _this_ long, would you?”

Caleb shakes his head. Mollymauk smiles. The corners of Caleb’s mouth reflexively curve up in response.

“Are you okay?” they ask. “I think some of what I said hit pretty close to home.”

“ _Ja_ , but I am…okay.” Caleb attempts to laugh it off. His meager chuckle is far from convincing.

Mollymauk strokes his hair. “The truth can be as vicious as a flog, if not more so. Most people prefer physical pain to hearing their darkest thoughts said out loud. Physical pain is easier to deal with.” They trace their fingers over the red lines on Caleb’s skin. Aside from the ones Mollymauk didn’t put ice on, they’re all less severe than Caleb thought they would be. “These will fade in a day or two,” Mollymauk says. “Putting ice on them right away prevents them from bruising. There’s a lesson for ya; sometimes when you do something harmful, there’s a simple yet unpleasant way to keep it from getting worse later, you’ve just gotta grit your teeth and get through it.”

Caleb nods. It’s far too late for him to do anything about what happened in his past. He knows exactly what he could have done, all the things he  _should_ have done at any given point, but Mollymauk was right. He is a coward.

Mollymauk gets back on their feet. “Do you pray, Caleb?”

Caleb is momentarily distracted by how tall Mollymauk seems from down here. “No, I um…I am not religious.”

“Does your family have a preferred deity?”

They _did_ , back then. Caleb distinctly remembers the shrine set up by the fireplace. They couldn’t afford incense for anything other than holidays so instead his mother would offer the first bite of every dinner to the little statue. “My parents honored Erathis at home.”

Mollymauk hums. “Empire loyalists, huh? Well, while I have you on your knees, why don’t you try asking the gods for strength? Erathis can be a tad strict, but I’ve found the Moonweaver to be more… _sympathetic_ to those in need of a fresh start.”

That’s a name Caleb doesn’t hear often. They aren’t one of the Betrayer gods, but they aren’t one of the six main deities of the Empire either. Since their purview includes love, personal expression, and nighttime activities, it’s no surprise that they would have worshipers in a place like this.

“I…I don’t know any prayers to the Moonweaver,” he admits.

“Speak from the heart and the gods will hear,” Mollymauk says. They walk over to the bed and gesture for Caleb to follow. Caleb goes to push himself to his feet. Mollymauk stops him with a sharp, “Ah ah! Did I say you could stand? _Crawl_. Show some humility when you’re asking for a divine favor.”

Caleb lowers himself onto all fours. Even with his head down he can feel Mollymauk’s eyes on him, making sure he remains sufficiently humble. He kneels with his hands folded atop the silken sheets. Mollymauk sits on the bed beside him and watches. They coil their tail around his wrists, binding them together. Their tail is surprisingly strong and dexterous. It is warm like the rest of the tiefling and the sensation of their skin on his sends shivers through Caleb’s core.

“Now bow your head,” Mollymauk instructs. Caleb does so. They slowly drag the back of their nails down his neck. His breathing grows shallow. “Pray. So I can hear you.”

Caleb swallows and licks his lips. What does one say to a god when one is so sure that any decent deity would scorn him? He wrings his hands, flexing his wrists in Mollymauk’s grasp. Their tail tightens ever so slightly.

“D-Dearest Moonweaver,” Caleb begins. “I…I kneel before you in this evening hour to beseech you to…to hear my prayer.” He glances over at Mollymauk. Their expression is impossible to read. “You know what I have done. You know I—I did not intend any real harm, but…but everything that happened was because of me, and I deeply regret my actions every day.” He tries to think of how he can incorporate the Moonweaver’s domain into his prayer. “You… I have kept it a secret all these years when I should not have, but perhaps it is by your will that none have found it out. Now I am paralyzed by fear that someday someone will, and I will not only have to pay for the deed itself, but for my cowardice.” His hands shake. Mollymauk’s tail squeezes him, but in an encouraging way. “I have come to…this place, seeking the service of your follower, in hopes that I can begin to pay my debt, receive my punishment, set things right in your eyes and in the eyes of whoever else is watching me. I ask…that you send your guiding light to show me the path to forgiveness, and…and continue to protect me with your shadows. In exchange I will accept whatever retribution the gods deem fit for me. Erm…thank you, and…strength and glory to you, beautiful one.”

Mollymauk unwinds their tail from around Caleb’s wrists. They nod.

“Was that good?” Caleb asks.

“How should I know? I’m not a cleric.” They grin. “But if the gods decide you should find some of your ‘retribution’ here, then I am happy to carry out their will.” They close their eyes and tilt their head as though listening to voices from the heavens. “I do believe it’s time you received a proper spanking, darling,” they say with a wicked smile. “Take your pants off and get on the bed. You may leave your underwear on if you wish.”

Caleb opts to leave them on. He is relieved that he chose his newest pair instead of his ugly worn-out briefs. Despite everything, he wants Mollymauk to think well of him in _some_ regards. He arranges himself on his elbows and knees. The silk is cool and smooth on his skin.

Mollymauk selects a paddle that has the phases of the moon carved into it, new moons painted at either end and a hollow full moon in the center with three intermediate phases connecting both sides in an S-curve. “This should be fitting. I’m going to start light, then hit you harder and harder until you tell me to stop, then I will spank you until I think you have had enough or until you ask me to, whichever comes first. Yes?”

“Yes.”

“What is your safeword?”

“‘Winter’.”

That rewarding smile. It tickles something in Caleb's stomach. He wants Mollymauk to keep smiling like that. “Good. Very good.” They grope his ass. Their nails dig through the fabric of his briefs and bite into his flesh. Then they slap him, so quick that Caleb barely felt their hand move. He jumps. A gentle touch, followed by a hard pinch. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to hurt me, Mollymauk. I want to be punished for the people _I_ have hurt. Please, please just _hurt me_.”

Mollymauk’s long nails trace teasing lines on his lower back. “If pain is what you really want, then I think a better punishment would be to deny it to you.”

Caleb pushes back on his hips and grits his teeth. “ _Please_.”

“Caleb, Caleb, Caleb,” Mollymauk says with a click of their tongue. “Punishment is not about _pleasing_ you. You can find pleasure in pain, but you don’t deserve pleasure, remember? Do you think the people you hurt _enjoyed_ what you did to them?” They grab him firmly by the neck and shove him forward, pushing his face into the bed. The mattress dips as they climb up and straddle him. They lower themselves to pin him beneath them and mutter in his ear, “You’re clearly a smart boy. Wouldn’t you agree that you shouldn’t be the one to decide how you are punished?”

Adrenaline floods into Caleb’s body. Despite his initial anxiety Caleb had been acclimating to the situation to the point where he was almost relaxed. Now, with Mollymauk’s weight pressing him down, their nails gripping delicate pressure points on his throat and the base of his skull, and their voice suddenly dripping with venomous mockery, Caleb is _terrified_. He feels like an injured rabbit at the mercy of a grinning slavering tiger. “B-B-But...y-you said—“

“ _You_ said you would accept any punishment the gods chose for you,” Mollymauk growls. “More importantly, you said you would do anything I told you to.” Caleb can hear the nightmarish smile in their voice as they say, “And so I am telling you to leave this to me. Which of us is the professional here, hm? Answer me.”

“Y-You are.”

“That’s right. You think you know better than I do? _That_ deserves some punishment.” There’s a split second of hot breath on Caleb’s shoulder before Mollymauk sinks their sharp teeth into him. They don’t break the skin, but it’s a vicious unexpected bite. Caleb cries out in pain and alarm. Mollymauk whips him with their tail, jaws still holding him. They whip him again and again, the silver cuffs striking hard into him wherever he isn’t covered by Mollymauk’s body, and all he can think to do is struggle in panic. He squeals with every impact. Their attacks are relentless, and yet he never feels their teeth puncture him, even as he thrashes and writhes in their grip.

“ _Winter!_ ” he finally shouts.

Immediately, Mollymauk is off the bed. Caleb is cold and aching without them. Part of him wishes he had used the slow word instead. Then their hand is on his back, a welcome touch. Caleb moans.

“Was that what you were hoping for? You wanted me to hurt you, and so I did. Do you think you’ve learned your lesson, Caleb?”

Caleb nods, clenching fistfuls of silk and taking gasping breaths of sandalwood and jasmine. “Th-Thank you, Mollymauk.”

“Very good. I think you’re ready to be spanked now, don’t you?” they ask. “That is, if it’s still what you want.”

Caleb nods again. At least with the spanking he will know what to expect. “ _Bitte_. Er, _please_.”

Mollymauk chuckles. “I’ve had Zemnian clients before. I know what begging sounds like in _several_ languages.” They kiss the small of his back, but then they tilt their head to lightly jab him with their horn. “Back up on your elbows and knees.”

Caleb’s legs are sore and the muscles complain as he pushes himself back into position. Mollymauk mostly went for his calves, but he knows he will have bruises on his ribs and thighs as well in the shape of those cuffs. He told Mollymauk they were allowed to leave marks like that, though. As usual, he will probably find ways to “accidentally” bump into those bruises so long as he has them, give himself an extra jolt of pain when he feels he is getting complacent.

No teasing this time, at least not much. Mollymauk places the corner of the paddle on the nape of Caleb’s neck then casually trails it down his spine, up and over the cleft of his ass, then bring it to rest pressing his balls hard up into his groin. Caleb inhales sharply.

“Everything I said earlier still applies,” Mollymauk says. “I’ll start easy and go from there. It’s up to you to tell me when it’s too much or when you want me to stop. You did very well using your safeword just now, so I’m confident you’ll do fine.” They give his balls a gentle pat with the paddle. “Ready?”

Caleb nods. “ _Ja_. Please.”

Mollymauk chuckles warmly. “Such a good polite boy. I’d feel bad about hitting you, but I know this is what you want, so in a way it’s a reward for your good behavior.” They tap him lightly on the ass. Caleb twitches at the contact. Compared to the lashing he got a few moments ago, it’s like getting hit with a balloon. Then they tap him harder, just barely, and while Caleb still flinches he is more relaxed. The third time he doesn’t flinch at all.

A dozen hits later, Mollymauk has yet to use more force than one might use to swat at a mosquito. They spank him in a different place each time, all across his ass and hips and thighs. Caleb doesn’t want to admit it, since he came here to be properly tortured for his crimes, but he likes this. He’s even getting hard from it. He tries not to moan whenever the paddle strikes him.

Mollymauk notices anyway. They slap the growing bulge between his legs, causing Caleb to recoil. “Oh dear,” they say. “That’s not what we want at all, is it? A little reward now and then is fine, but as I said earlier, punishment isn’t supposed to be something you _enjoy_.” They spank him across the ass much harder than before, but not so hard that Caleb needs to use either of his safewords. “After all, you’ve been a good boy for me, but what about all those people you’ve hurt? Would they want you to be rewarded for what you did?” They spank him harder, right on his hipbone. He whimpers. “That’s more like it. Remember why you’re here.” A harder spank on the thigh. “ _You_ came to _me_ hoping I would hurt you enough that it would make up for all the terrible things you’ve done.” Harder. “Things so terrible you won’t even tell me about them. How heavy they must weigh on you, Caleb. How long have you been keeping this secret?” Harder. “How long have you been avoiding the consequences of your actions?” Harder. “How long did it even take you to realize you _should_ be punished?” They spank him on the ass so hard the pain jolts all the way into Caleb’s tongue.

“Summer!”

Another spank, but two degrees of intensity lighter than before. “I told you I would hurt you for every wrong you ever did,” they say. “But perhaps it’s not so much about quantity, but quality. Whatever you did must have been nasty—” _WHACK_ “—despicable—” _WHACK_ “— _disgusting_ —” _WHACK_ “—downright _evil_ —” _WHACK_ “—am I right?”

Caleb whimpers an affirmative. He has his forehead pressed into the sheets, fingers digging into the back of his skull. So many times he has called himself all those things and more. There _was_ no word for how wretched he is, how horrific his deeds were. The heat of tears builds up behind his eyes. He wishes Mollymauk would stop talking and just hit him. The memories cause more pain than the paddle. Then again, they said they were going to make him brave, and if he can make it through this they will reward him. The thought of Mollymauk’s gentle touch or a kiss and a word of praise is enough to embolden him.

Mollymauk spanks him continuously for another half a minute or so, methodically striking every inch of his legs and thighs so not a single nerve is left unscathed. Caleb is relieved, until they start talking again. “You’ve done a terrible job of punishing yourself so far. Starving yourself? Hiding away from other people? That won’t undo what you did. It only feeds your guilt while allowing you to avoid any _real_ consequences you might face.” They smack him hard on a spot they’ve worked over a few times already, making him yelp. “Think back to when you were a child. What would your parents have done if they found out you’d done something bad and kept it a secret from them for so long? Would they send you to bed without supper? Lock you in your room until you were sorry? Or would they tell you to pull yourself together and take responsibility for your actions?”

That breaks him. The tears eat their way out of Caleb’s eyes like acid, formed in the caustic pits of his memories. He collapses on the bed and cries.

He will never know what his parents would have done, because he killed them.

Caleb’s parents were dead because they didn’t want him to throw away his future. No, they were dead because _he_ didn’t care if he did or not. His parents had grounded him for getting in trouble for the umpteenth time at school, caught bullying another underclassman with his friends. They were afraid if he kept this up he would lose his scholarship to his first-choice college. Caleb had snuck out of the house anyway, gotten drunk with Astrid and Eodwulf, then when he snuck back in he thought he would play a funny prank. He braced a chair against the handle of his parents’ bedroom door so they couldn’t get out, then he set off firecrackers in the hall. Nothing too dangerous, just enough to make loud noises and a bit of smoke to wake his parents up and make them mad. He had put his headphones on and went to lie down for a few minutes, intending to come back and let his parents out when the joke was over.

He awoke to the smell of his house burning down. The panic sobered him up immediately. It was too late. The chair on his parents’ door was on fire. The whole hallway was on fire. Caleb had wrapped his hands in his jacket and pried the chair off the door, but the flames and the agony from where they had licked up his arms forced him back. His parents were trapped. He ran and called for help. By the time the fire was out both his parents were dead.

The fire was ruled an accident. It was an old house, and everyone knew Caleb’s father preferred to fix everything himself. They blamed it on “faulty wiring” and called it a tragic accident. Caleb never told anyone the truth. He went to college with his scholarship and his parents’ insurance money. Their screaming haunted him every night. He dropped out his sophomore year, used the rest of his money to change his name and move away to where no one knew him or what had happened. He was a coward. If he hadn’t been such a sadistic little monster, if he hadn’t gotten drunk and decided to lash out in teenage rebellion, if he had tried harder to get them out, his parents would still be alive.

Caleb sobs, arms wrapped around his head and his body curled tight into itself. Mollymauk rubs his back soothingly, but says nothing. Caleb initially flinches away from their touch. He doesn’t deserve such kindness, regardless of whether it is genuine or softening him up for later pain. His demons are howling in his ears. He is literally naked and battered and vulnerable on the bed of someone who is practically a stranger. Yet for all their strangeness, there is something comforting in Mollymauk’s presence. Yes, Caleb is a broken mess right now, but at least he isn’t alone.

Firm hands pull him off the mattress enough for Mollymauk to scoot their lap under his head. Caleb buries his face deeper in his arms. They continue gently stroking him. Something wraps around his waist. It’s their tail. Caleb doesn’t know how long it takes him to stop weeping, but when he does he is shaking and tired and he wishes he could fall asleep with his head on Mollymauk’s warm thigh.

Instead, he pushes himself up and moves away from them on the bed. Their tail slithers off him as Mollymauk allows him his space. He sniffles. “I am so sorry,” he says. “I did not— I— Gods, I must seem so pathetic to you.”

Mollymauk shrugs. “Well, yeah, but I don’t think any less of you for it.” They think for a moment. “Actually ‘pathetic’ isn’t the right word. You look awful, I’m not gonna lie, but you’re not the first client I’ve reduced to tears and I guarantee you won’t be the last. Occupational hazard, especially when you’re as good as I am. No, you’re…you’re… I suppose the best way to put it is you seem like you needed this. All of this. The pain, the scolding, the catharsis. You really  _have_ done a terrible job of managing your punishment so far, and what I was getting at is that you’ve been denying yourself more than you think, including the chance to really confront your problems.”

Caleb manages a weak smile. “You sound like my therapist.”

“It’s part of the job. Most people who come to me for this sort of thing have _some_ problems they’re trying to work out. You’re not the worst, I can assure you. I’ve had clients that I’ve had to blacklist because of how creepy and disturbing they were. You think _you’ve_ done some fucked up shit, these bastards would _brag_ to me about why I should punish them. Ugh, and the amount of people who have fucking mommy or daddy issues.” They wince. “Sorry. I think that was your trigger, wasn’t it?”

Caleb’s jaw quivers. He nods.

“Did your parents abuse you?”

Caleb laughs reflexively. It mingles with a sob and hurts on its way out of his throat. “ _Nein_ , they were very good to me. Patient. Caring.” His voice breaks as a fresh wave of tears pours from his eyes. “Proud.”

“Oh.” Mollymauk fidgets with the paddle. “They’re dead, aren’t they?”

Caleb merely nods again and sniffles.

“I’m sorry. Whatever happened…it’s in the past, and you can’t change it, yeah? But you can work towards making your future better, one where you’ve learned from your mistakes and use those lessons to become a better person, and they’d still be proud of you.” They shift closer to him and set the paddle down on their other side. “You’re not as messed up as you think you are, darling. At least, you’re not the only one who’s messed up that much.” They lean away with a scowl. “You didn’t rape anyone though, did you?”

“Hm— _nein!_ ” As soon as he processes the accusation Caleb waves his hands to emphasize his reply. “Absolutely not. I would _never_.”

“…Did anything to kids?”

The mere thought makes Caleb want to throw up. “ _No_. Well…I mean, I…I tormented kids at school when I was young, but it was never…like _that_.”

Mollymauk relaxes. “Is that all you felt guilty about? Kids are fucking arseholes to each other. They shouldn’t be, but they are. That’s nothing to beat yourself up over.” They chuckle. “It’s not like you killed anyone, right?”

Caleb goes quiet. The tears drown his vision, but he can still see the realization in Mollymauk’s eyes.

“…Oh.”

“I was— I didn’t mean for it to happen. It is entirely my fault. I was drunk, and young, and angry, but th-that’s no excuse. I— I—” Caleb scratches at the scars on his arms. When he first got them everyone remarked on how lucky he was to have escaped the fire with such minor injuries. He wasn’t lucky. These should be worse. He should have broken the door down at any cost. The fire should have claimed him too. Instead he will have these for the rest of his life to remind him what a useless _Feigling_  he was.

Mollymauk lightly traces the edge of one scar. Caleb can feel their touch on his heart. “Well, like I said, nothing you can do to change it now. The fact that you’re here and obviously torn up just thinking about it means you’re not an evil psychopath, and that’s a start. You said you wanted a chance to be better and make up for what you did. I can’t give that to you, only _you_ can. It’s alright if you need a little pain to make you feel like you’ve balanced your karma or whatever, and _that_ I can give you. It shouldn’t be something you do to yourself every day though.”

They remind him of something Dr. Brenatto told him. She said, “Some people don’t have enough good in them to recognize when they’ve done something terrible. Your conscience is well aware of what you did and why it’s wrong. That’s the first step. The next step is understanding it’s okay to move on. Even if you _had_ gone to jail for what you did, because it was an accident you would have been out by now. You don’t have to imprison yourself in your own mind for the rest of your life.”

Caleb slides across the silk sheets to brush his shoulder against Mollymauk’s. The warm contact is a balm on his aching heart. “I _do_ want to be better,” he says, wiping the tears from his cheeks. “But…I am afraid there will always be a part of me that will not let me forget what I have done, that will nullify any progress I make because it can never be _enough_.” He sighs. “This helped, I think. I…I liked it.” With another little smile he turns to Mollymauk and adds, “You really are _very_ good at what you do.”

Mollymauk returns the smile. “I know.” They hook their tail around his waist again. The silver cuffs are warm as they tap their tail tip against his side in comforting pats. “Any progress is progress, Caleb, even if it’s just finding out you’ve got a new kink that helps you cope with shite.” They lean over to kiss him on the temple. “You’ve got some time left in our session, but if you want to end it here you can go, or stay and rest while you come down.”

Caleb shakes his head. “ _Nein_ , I want to finish this. Please.”

“Are you sure?” When Caleb nods Mollymauk nods as well. “Alright then. Do you want me to keep spanking you, or move on to something else?”

“I…I liked the spanking. Too much, for um...for what I wanted. What else could you do?”

“Well, I could whip you, either with the riding crop again or a flog. I could tie you up in an uncomfortable position and leave you there. I could…eh, it’s not _physically_ painful, but I could make you wear nothing but skimpy panties then walk a lap around the lounge downstairs.”

Caleb shrinks into himself. “That sounds awful, and not in the way I would like it to be.”

Mollymauk smiles. “Didn’t think so. I could scratch you some more, or attach clips to you, or if you think you’re up for it I could push needles through your skin.” Caleb shakes his head vigorously. He has always hated needles, possibly more than he hates himself. “No? Hmm…” They sigh. “Let’s try it this way: what scares you the most? Or what kind of pain do you think is appropriate?”

Caleb runs his thumb over one of his more prominent scars. “Fire. I…don’t like fire.”

“Mmm.” Mollymauk bites their knuckle pensively. “Fire play is a thing, but that’s more Ornna’s area of expertise. Would you like to try hot wax? That’s usually for sexual situations, but it does burn without leaving permanent marks.”

“O-Okay. We can do that.”

“Alright. It will take a few minutes to get ready, but I don’t have anything booked after this. It’s fine if we go over, I won’t charge you.”

Caleb nods. “Thank you.”

Mollymauk retrieves some candles from one of the drawers and lights them. While the wax softens, Caleb sits on the edge of the bed and Mollymauk whips him with the riding crop. They don’t hit him very hard, just enough that it stings. Between strikes they remind him that he’s flawed and has done so many things wrong in his life, but also that he has a lot of life ahead of him, and it’s in his best interest to work towards forgiveness as soon as he’s able.

“You’ve made a good start here,” they say, flicking the crop against his arm. “But it’s just a start. Tell me what you’re going to do to better yourself.”

“I…I’m going to keep going to therapy.”

“Good.” Mollymauk taps him hard on the side of the face with the riding crop. “What else?”

“I’m…going to…take better care of myself, because that’s what my parents would want me to do.”

“ _Very_ good.” Another hard tap on the other cheek. “What else?”

“I— I’ll go visit their graves. I h-have not been back there in over a decade. I’ll bring them flowers and apologize in person.”

Mollymauk nods. They stroke the head of the crop down his arm then smack him on the wrist. “What else?”

“I’ll be kind to everyone, help everyone. At least, I’ll do what I can.”

“And you won’t beat yourself up if some days what you  _can_ do is far less than what you would  _like_ to do?”

Caleb nods. “Yes.”

Mollymauk kisses him on the forehead. This time they don’t pull away until Caleb has fully relaxed against their lips. “Leave every place better than you found it,” they tell him. “ _That_ is how you cancel out all the bad things you’ve done in the past.” They smile. Caleb smiles back. “Now lie down. You choose which side I’ll pour the wax on.”

Caleb chooses his chest. His heart beats faster and harder as Mollymauk approaches with the first candle. They dip one finger in the wax then press it to Caleb’s sternum before it cools. The warmth and the sensation of Mollymauk’s touch spreads through him like cracks spiderwebbing across glass. He won’t break this time. He has broken enough. Mollymauk said he would be stronger by the time they were done, and he is starting to think they were right.

The wax doesn’t burn the way the fire did, but Caleb can tell himself that it does, take himself back to that night. The smoky scent of sandalwood helps. He doesn’t weep anymore, but tears still trickle down the side of his face, soaking into the sheets. He is on the verge of hyperventilating. He spasms every time the wax hits him, and he hiccups with an occasional choked sob. Mollymauk strokes his hair between candles. They speak to him in a soothing tone, but Caleb isn’t listening. He’s remembering every detail that has haunted his nightmares, picking apart the real from the things his imagination has made worse over the years. The autopsies said his parents died from smoke inhalation, but in his dreams they burned, screaming for him to help them. As the wax pours over his skin he pretends it’s the fire engulfing him, bit by bit, so he can join them.

At last Mollymauk blows out the candles. “You did so well, Caleb,” they say. “How do you feel?”

Caleb is at a loss for words. He gives Mollymauk a thumbs up and sniffles.

“That’s good.” They pick a piece of dried wax off his stomach. Caleb winces as it tugs a few fine hairs. “Cleaning you up is going to hurt a little. Do you want a minute to adjust or would you rather I just go for it?”

“Go.”

“Okay.” Mollymauk squeezes his shoulder and smiles. “Then we’re going to wrap up the session and we can talk about what worked for you and what didn’t, alright?” Caleb nods and they pat him on the cheek. “Good boy.”

Mollymauk goes into the same drawer that had the candles and pulls out a small strigil. They carefully scrape the wax from Caleb’s skin, going extra slowly when removing it from his chest and arm hair. Since Caleb has yet to regain his ability to speak, Mollymauk does all the talking.

“A lot of people come to me and other dominants because they want _punishment_ when what they really need is _discipline_. They think they’ll come in and I’ll be all, ‘Bad boy, _smack smack_ , don’t do that again, or else.’ Nope. I prefer to give people a reason to improve, instead of teaching them to be afraid of messing up. Worse, some people will tell themselves they can do whatever terrible stuff they want because they can just come, get beaten up for half an hour, and call it even.

“That’s why I ask my clients to pray during our first sessions. I’m not religious either. Yes, the Moonweaver helped me out when I needed it, and some people do find comfort in thinking the gods are watching over them, but really I do it to learn about a person. Some people don’t take it seriously and they flirt with me the whole time, some people are insincere and say what they think I want to hear, but some? Some really care, and it’s obvious they need someone to show them the compassion they won’t give themselves. And, y’know, make it hurt a little so they feel they got their money’s worth.” They caress the spot where they just scraped off a hefty chunk of wax. “Do you think you got your money’s worth?”

Caleb nods. “You are better than I could have imagined,” he says, words sluggish and muffled by the snot he hasn’t be able to sniffle away yet.

Mollymauk smiles. Caleb is coming to love that smile. “Thank you, darling. And if it makes you feel better, I’ve had clients who refuse to continue unless I stop talking and just whip them because they can’t deal with the emotional side of this, or they come in thinking they’re tough and brave but they use their safeword within five minutes even though I’m still getting them warmed up. You are _far_ stronger than you give yourself credit for. Even though you broke down, you stuck it out, and you vocalized what you were and were not comfortable with instead of giving up and letting me do something you might not want. I admire that.”

A blossom of giddy warmth and delight blooms in Caleb’s chest. Mollymauk likes something about him. They might just be saying that as part of their job, but something about the look in their eyes tells him they mean it. He’s beginning to love their eyes, too. In fact there are many things he likes about Mollymauk, and he feels more comfortable around them than he is with most of his coworkers, if not all of them. Mollymauk understands. Mollymauk is considerate and intuitive and talented. He is aware of how absurd his feelings are, but that doesn’t stop him from having them.

With the wax cleared away into a trash can Mollymauk pulls out from under the bed, Caleb sits up and examines himself. His skin has large pink patches and lingering scratch marks, and his ass and thighs are sore, but despite how much he has been through he knows these will fade in time.

Mollymauk gestures to the floor. “On your hands and knees, head down.” Once Caleb is in position, they place their booted foot before his mouth. “Kiss it. Show your gratitude.”

Caleb kisses it once, but he kisses it long and hard. The texture and taste are pleasant on his lips. When he stops, Mollymauk’s tail whips around and strikes him in the face. There isn’t as much force behind it as they used earlier, but it still hurts.

“ _That’s_ all the gratitude you have? After everything we’ve been through?” Mollymauk lifts their foot enough that they can slam it back down. “Kiss it again to apologize.”

Caleb grovels. He kisses it several times, murmuring, “I’m sorry, so sorry.”

“Good. Now, show your gratitude.”

This time Caleb is eager to please. He channels all the emotions Mollymauk has made him feel in this past half hour. He holds the boot the way he wants to hold Mollymauk, kisses it the way he wants to kiss them, affectionately tells the boot, “Thank you, Mollymauk, thank you. Whatever I can do for you, please tell me. I want you to know how much I appreciate you.” He even licks it to show his devotion.

“Say you aren’t a bad person.”

“I am not a bad person.” It just comes out of his mouth. He doesn’t question it.

“Say you are on the path to forgiveness.”

“I am on the path to forgiveness.”

“Say you won’t hurt yourself anymore.”

“I will not hurt myself.”

“Good, because that’s _my_ job now, understand?”

Caleb lifts his head to look up at Mollymauk. They are smiling at him. He smiles back. Gods, he wishes he could see that smile every day.

Mollymauk reaches out their hand. Caleb takes it and they pull him to his feet. “Caleb, you did very well today. I think you’ve earned something nice, wouldn’t you agree?”

“If you say so,” Caleb says, still smiling. He trusts Mollymauk. Even though they don’t know everything, they know enough that they should hate him now, but they don’t. It’s a relief. He likes that they don’t hate him. He likes that they want to give him something nice. His heart flutters in anticipation.

Mollymauk kisses him full on the mouth. It’s not like the other kisses they’ve given him as a reward. It’s tender, playful, perhaps a bit curious, the sort of kiss Caleb exchanged with his schoolyard crushes back in the day, but more meaningful. Caleb kisses them back with appreciation. He doesn’t feel completely absolved, but he feels…good, in a way that he hasn’t for a long time. It’s as though the vice grip that has been crushing his heart all these years has loosened by a turn or two, making room for Mollymauk to fit right in.

Mollymauk leaves one more kiss on Caleb’s cheek as they pull away. They blink at him with soft eyes.

“Thank you, Mollymauk,” Caleb sighs.

Mollymauk smiles with a quiet laugh. “You can call me ‘Molly’, if you like.”

“Molly.” Caleb wants to be in their arms. He wants to keep showing his gratitude. That would be weird, he thinks. They were just doing their job. He shouldn’t try to make anything else out of this.

But then Mollymauk — Molly — takes his hand. “You look like someone who is in dire need of a hug but doesn’t know how to ask for one.” They flick their tail in a good-natured gesture. “I see that look a lot.” They jerk their head towards the bed. "Like I said, my evening is open, and you need to come down anyway. If you’ve got time, we can cuddle a little.”

Caleb’s heart leaps. “ _Ja. Ja_ I have plenty of time. For you.” He grins, though he is cautious about seeming too eager.

They smile and their eyes light up. They sit down to take their boots off. Even without them Molly is an inch or two taller than Caleb. They take his hand again and lead him into bed.

It’s so nice under the sheets with them. Caleb revels in the blissful texture of the silk, the heat of Molly’s skin against his own, the scent of jasmine filling him with peace. Molly holds him close. It has been so long since anyone embraced him like this. Usually when people try to engage in physical contact with him Caleb finds an excuse to refuse them. He could never refuse Molly. He is safe with Molly. Molly can do whatever they want to him because he knows they only have his best interest in mind. His eyes fill with tears again, but this time they are happy tears. He wraps his arm around Molly’s waist. They caress him with their hands and tail, placing little kisses on his forehead and his hair.

Caleb is in love.

It’s stupid. It’s rushed. He’ll find reasons to hate himself again tomorrow and close himself off to any affection, his own or otherwise. But that’s tomorrow. Here, now, he is in love. From out of the darkness and pain that has ensnared his soul all these years, the writhing pit he thought he could never escape, a light emerges. It fills him with warm tingles, like a pile of blankets fresh out of the dryer that crackle with static when he wraps himself in them. Frumpkin likes playing under the blankets, but in the winter he avoids them until Caleb has absorbed all the electricity. Molly is holding Caleb the way he holds Frumpkin sometimes. He could be Molly’s pet. He would love to be Molly’s pet. If he could purr he would. Instead he tightens his arm around Molly and hums a soft wanting moan.

Molly chuckles. They stroke his hair fondly. “Isn’t this much better than locking yourself away and hurting yourself?”

“Mmhmm.” Caleb trembles. He wants… He can’t. He shouldn’t. Oh gods, he can’t love Molly. He can’t because as kind as they are they could never love him back. It would be so embarrassing to… But he wants to so badly. If he doesn’t his heart will wither. He’s afraid. He’s afraid of how Molly will react. Then again, Molly told him to be brave. He clenches his fist and swallows his fear.

Caleb stretches up to kiss Molly on the cheek, right on the peacock feather tattoo that fans up the side of their face. Immediately afterward he curls back into a ball against Molly’s chest. Molly’s hands stop, but their tail twitches, tickling his leg.

“Sorry,” Caleb whispers. “Sorry I— I guess you have a lot of…of clients who, um…wh-wh-who fall for you. I just—” he swallows again “—I wanted to say thank you again, fff-for everything.”

Molly weaves one hand into Caleb’s hair. The other grips him by the small of his back. “Caleb,” they murmur. “You— Yes, there are a lot of people who walk out of this room with feelings they probably shouldn’t have, but…” They sigh. Their tail curls and uncurls. “But I don’t want to tell you that you shouldn’t like me. I’m not… Well, let’s just say there isn’t a lot of respect for people in my profession. Or my race, for that matter. Most people like me for what I do or because they want an ‘exotic’ playmate. They want to own me or objectify me and pretend it means they care for me, even though they have no idea who I really am. But… But if you wanted to get dinner sometime, find out who that is and if there’s more to your feelings beyond what’s in this room, I would like that. From what I’ve learned today, you seem like you have a good heart that just needs some care to help it flourish.” They clear their throat. “Or if you leave and you realize you only liked the discipline, that’s okay too. You can always book another session. I’d be happy to see you on my schedule, professionally or privately.”

Caleb hasn’t been on a date since high school. He has been asked once or twice, possibly more but he simply didn’t pick up on it, and he has rejected all of them. He doesn’t do romance. His social skills are terrible. He’s trash. He didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up then disappoint them or worse. Molly’s offer makes him blush down to the deepest depths of his core. His heartbeat is so fast it’s as though he has two, one in his ribs and one in his head. Then he realizes he’s actually feeling Molly’s heart racing as well from where he’s pressed to Molly’s chest.

“P…Perhaps I will…” Caleb takes a deep breath. “I c-could book another session, and if…if you want, we could get dinner a-a-afterwards.”

Molly grins into Caleb’s hair. “That sounds like a good plan.”

The two of them lie in each other’s arms for a short while, simply touching and snuggling and being with each other. With another kiss Molly tells Caleb to lie on his stomach with his legs apart.

“I’m going to put some cream on your bruises,” they explain. “You can take it with you and apply it for the next few days and it will help them heal faster.”

Caleb intended to use those bruises to make the pain last longer. However, he will not pass on a chance to have Molly’s hands on him some more. “Okay,” he says.

Molly massages the cream into his skin with utmost care. Caleb finds himself growing hard again. He does nothing to hide it. He doesn’t want Molly that way, but they might consider this a compliment. When he peeks over his shoulder he sees those teal-painted lips curving into a poorly hidden smile.

They discuss the activities of the past half hour. Caleb rates everything on a scale from one to ten, at Molly’s request. The biting and tail-whipping gets the lowest rating at a four, and the cuddling and reward kisses tie for highest with a perfect ten. As far as the discipline is concerned, the spanking gets a good rating for enjoyability, but the hot wax wins overall because of how much it did for him.

When Caleb gets up to put his clothes on, Molly stands there, hands behind their back, tail swaying bashfully. In this coy posture and without the added height of their boots, Molly is far less intimidating than they were when Caleb first met them. It’s hard to think that was less than an hour ago. Caleb was drawn to them then, but now all it takes is one tiny nod to pull Caleb to them. They kiss him one last time. Caleb savors every second of it, memorizing Molly’s scent, the taste of their lips, the shape of their hand on his arm. It’s hard to pull away and finish getting dressed, but at this time of night the buses run less and less frequently, and if Caleb dallies too long it’ll be half an hour until the next one. He doesn’t rush back into his pants and coat. Another half-hour here wouldn’t be so bad, except Frumpkin is probably wondering where he is.

Molly walks over to the drawers. “Before you go…” They pull open the top drawer. Inside is an impressive array of snacks, ranging from candy to protein bars to dried fruit. “Good boys get to take a treat home with them,” Molly says with a grin. “And, y’know, it’s good to eat something after a session. I’ve also got bottles of water in the fridge. You should definitely take one of those.”

“Thank you,” Caleb says, selecting a chocolate bar. He accepts the bottle of water as well. The first sip makes him realize how parched he is. Molly really is very good at their job.

The two of them walk back to the lounge together. The club is much more lively now. The music is louder, there are more people swarming the dance floor, and Caleb’s social anxiety is flaring up. Molly escorts him to the front desk. The drow is still there. He gives them a knowing smirk.

“There you are, Tealeaf,” the drow says. “You weren’t doing anything off the books, were you?”

Molly rolls their eyes. “When the session ends and I don't have anything afterwards, it becomes my personal time, Hot Boy, and I get to choose how I spend it.” To Caleb they add, “Don’t mind Essek. He’s jealous because he’s wonderful to look at but lousy at everything else. That’s not even a real computer. He literally just sits there looking pretty all day.”

Essek scoffs. “You’re one to talk. You’re so technologically illiterate you wouldn’t know Instagram from Paint.”

“That’s why we have you, dear.” Molly laughs. “Okay, I lied. He’s actually the best mod we have for the cam livestreams. And he’s somewhat of a programming prodigy. He’s working on…something, I don’t remember and I don’t care. The important thing is that he keeps the creeps out of the stream chat, and that he’s _very_ pretty.”

“So are you,” Essek says with a kiss and a wink.

Molly returns the gesture. Then they turn their focus back to Caleb. Their tail winds briefly around his leg. “I don’t work mornings or Thursdays and I have a regular who books me every other Tuesday afternoon, but otherwise my schedule is fairly open. Let the Ruby know when you want to spend time with me again.” They take his hand and squeeze it with a smile. “I’ll see you then. Take care of yourself, Caleb.”

“I will.” Caleb squeezes their hand back in lieu of giving them a parting kiss. Essek is still watching them and Caleb’s cheeks are red enough. “Erm, thank you again for everything. I look forward to our next session.”

Molly’s smile widens to a grin. “So do I.”

Caleb walks to the bus stop in a daze. This was not how he expected his day to end. When he gets home he is going to tell Frumpkin all about it. Perhaps the cat will have some insight to his feelings. For that matter, what is he going to tell his therapist? Regardless, Dr. Brenatto is going to be so proud of him. What really sets Caleb’s soul aglow and makes him more excited for the future than he has been in what feels like forever is that someday he will make Mollymauk proud of him too.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains FIRE and FEELINGS. Proceed with caution.

As Caleb suspected, he wakes up the morning after his session with Mollymauk sore in both body and soul. His bruises are all tender and his heart is broken. It’s worse than waking up after a night of blackout drinking because he can remember exactly what a fool he made of himself.

Love? He was _in love?_ What a testament to how pathetic his life is. He emotionally attached himself to the first person who showed him an ounce of affection, and that affection had been a reward for enduring what was essentially low-grade torture. Yes, it was torture he had asked for, but it was also torture he had _paid_ for. Mollymauk had been doing their job, nothing more. All their compassion and care was a ploy to get him to seek out their services again. Caleb couldn’t afford that. A mere half an hour with them had cost him a third of what he earned in a month, which he had paid because he thought it would be a one-time thing and it wasn’t as though he was constantly spending money on himself. His apartment was the cheapest on the market, he had no car, his phone plan was the most basic since he didn’t have friends to call or text, and while he had stopped starving himself he didn’t eat lavish food unless he was _really_ tempted. Nearly all the money in his savings account was there in case something happened to Frumpkin. Even so, he still had to pay for rent and therapy appointments and his anti-anxiety medication, and his job didn’t pay well to begin with. No way he could go to the Devil’s Den on a regular basis. He might be able to spare the money for _one_ more session, but that would simply be to confirm that Mollymauk’s kind words were all an act.

Caleb spends his whole day at work thinking about what to do. His morning dose of medication lessens his manic anxiety, but it doesn’t change what happened last night so he has the same things to worry about. Most important is that he all but confessed his crimes to Mollymauk. Technically they guessed it first, but he admitted it right after. They didn’t know his real name or where he was from, and he never _specifically_ stated that he killed his parents, so they couldn’t have him arrested, or so he hopes. Still, they might use the information to blackmail him, get him to pay more for sessions or simply pay them to keep quiet. And they couldn’t possibly have feelings for him the way he thought they did. No one could ever love him. He’s an emotionally broken coward with blood on his hands.

Something in him wants to believe Molly was being earnest. They told him previous patrons had “bragged” to them about why they deserved punishment. He was not that bad. He would never take pride in what he did. Even when he was doing it he didn’t plan on telling anyone other than Eodwulf and Astrid, just to laugh about it. They didn’t know either. He stopped talking to them when he went to college. He had been almost completely alone since. If Molly truly liked him, if they actually didn’t care about what he had done, maybe…maybe he _could_ find a way to see them more often. Then he wouldn’t be alone anymore.

Why couldn’t he have picked a more sensible way of injecting destructive pleasure into his life, like a drinking habit or cocaine?

It’s Frumpkin who helps him make his decision. Frumpkin has been the best influence in Caleb’s life ever since his adoption. Caleb tells the patient cat all the things he has been thinking today, which takes the better part of an hour while he prepares and stir-fries some vegetables to toss into his salted pasta for dinner.

“You’ve seen the bruises!” Caleb exclaims. “You saw what Mollymauk did to me! And I _enjoyed_ it! Not all of it, but enough. And I wanted more! I nearly scheduled my next appointment as soon as I got home, but fortunately you started yelling at me for food, so _danke_ for that. Is this who I am now? Is this what I have done to myself? So starved for any kind of connection to someone outside myself that I _fucking fall in love_ with someone who punishes people for a living? No, not punishes, ‘ _disciplines_ ’, or so they call it. Is that what I need? Discipline is how you teach yourself to behave. I already know not to go setting off firecrackers indoors again. What I need is… is…” Caleb slams his wooden spoon onto the counter and grabs his hair with both fists. “What do I need, Frumpkin? _Sag mir, bitte, was ich brauche._ ”

Frumpkin is dozing off in his basket, though Caleb can see the gleam of his eyes from where they aren’t closed quite yet. His tail flicks at the tip, little shuddered movements back and forth. Caleb sees him do that occasionally when he stares off into space, so he usually interprets it as the cat being deep in thought.

“Alright, you think it over and I’ll think it over and we’ll compare notes after dinner.”

And so Caleb thinks. He pictures every possible outcome, from continuing his life without ever setting foot in the Devil’s Den again to facing trial in Blumenthal to taking Mollymauk as his partner and going on dates with them and having quiet nights in with them and getting spanks from them whenever he feels like distracting himself from his memories. He thinks about the latter a lot. Even when he tells himself it’s the least likely possibility, his mind drifts there between other thoughts.

“I wanted to be their _pet_ , Frumpkin. I distinctly remember thinking that: I _wanted_ to be their _pet._ That is not a normal thing to want. That’s not a normal _relationship_ to want. You know me, I am a sworn bachelor, but that’s because I didn’t think anyone but you would ever like me, and you like me because I feed you and give you a place to sleep and I pet you the way you like to be pet.” Caleb scrapes the last fragment of onion off his plate. “And… And Mollymauk did that for me… I did not sleep in their room, but we…” He clears his throat. “ _Es war nett_. And it felt so nice when they comforted me during my breakdown, and they made sure I had food and water when I left because I was so exhausted. And I liked it, Frumpkin. I liked it far too much. What’s wrong with me? _Frumpchen, was ist los mit mir? Was soll ich machen? Mit ein— ein— ein_ Sadist _wohnen? Weil ich will, dass…dass…_ ”

No, of course he can’t _actually_ be Molly’s pet. Aside from the fact that they would either laugh or cringe at the idea, they probably get a dozen offers a month from clients who want someone like Molly to pamper and punish them every day. Molly themself even said they had clients who have feelings they shouldn’t, and clearly Caleb was one of them. But for that matter, Molly had said they _didn’t_ want to discourage Caleb from having those feelings.

Caleb sighs. “ _Komm hier, Frumpchen_.” Frumpkin leaps up into his lap and gets comfy. Caleb scritches Frumpkin’s chin. “Well, those are my thoughts. What are yours?”

Frumpkin responds by nuzzling his head into Caleb’s chest, his ear tucking down as he rubs his cheek up then popping back out as he turns to rub the other cheek. Caleb strokes down Frumpkin’s back and the cat purrs like a motorcycle fueled by bees. His tail curls up into Caleb’s hand whenever it’s within reach. He’s so cute. Caleb adores him. There’s also a throb of jealousy in his heart.

Despite all his self-loathing, deep down he wishes someone would treat him the way he treats Frumpkin, which is why he treats Frumpkin that way in the first place. He wants to be adored and taken care of in exchange for his never-ending affection. Maybe Molly can’t give him that, but now at least he knows that’s what he’s looking for. He started therapy because, not only was his anxiety getting out of control, but he had this constant sense of dread or something that felt like a heavy gap in his stomach and sometimes it was so bad he would stop whatever he was doing to try to figure out what was causing it. He had been scolded at work a few times for “staring off into space” or not smiling for customers. However, when his mind had switched into compulsive obedience for Molly, that feeling went numb, and when he cuddled up in Molly’s arms it was like it had never been there at all.

“Okay,” he says. “If I have enough after my next paycheck, I’ll go back.”

* * *

Unfortunately, having just spent so much on Mollymauk the first time, Caleb has to admit that he simply doesn’t have the money yet. It’s not until the paycheck after that that he feels comfortable paying for another half-hour. He does his research in the meantime, however, and even makes a little list of things that he would at least like to ask Mollymauk about.

In those few weeks, he goes to see Dr. Brenatto twice, and she is very interested to hear about his visit to the Devils' Den. At least, she likes the parts Caleb decides to share. She thinks it’s wonderful that he allowed himself to cry and say even a little about his past to someone else. When he voices his concerns that Molly might turn him in, she asks, “Haven’t you thought about doing that yourself?”

“ _Na ja_ , a few times, when I want to give up. I did want to go back and visit their graves, and…and maybe while I was there I would leave a note explaining what happened.”

Dr. Brenatto nods. “So you’re worried that Mollymauk turning you in would rob you of the chance to make things right yourself?”

Caleb shrugs. “I suppose.” At this point jail isn’t enough, but the death penalty would be too much. All that prison would do is give him time to think about what he did, and he has done that plenty on his own. And he’s fairly certain that whatever awaits him in the afterlife is worse than anything that could happen to him in life, so he’s too scared to die. Molly offered the perfect balance. Caleb could face his guilt and accept the pain he deserved and hope that it would lessen his eternal sentence. Then again, would the gods accept that as a substitute if he secretly liked it?

Furthermore, even though it _was_ a valuable experience he simply can’t afford it, and he tells Dr. Brenatto so. She says, “Well, if you think this could improve one aspect of your life, perhaps it will motivate you to improve others so you can maintain it? Consider that your homework until next time. You don’t actually have to apply for any jobs, but I want you to _look_ and see if there’s anything you would want to do.”

Caleb puts off that assignment until after he knows if he even wants to make his sessions with Molly a regular occurrence. He knows he should get a better job anyway, but something about suffering through a customer service job feels like penance and he’s not sure he deserves anything better. Then again, if he gets a better paying job so he can let Molly punish him instead, it might count as a fair trade-off. It all depends on what happens next.

* * *

Somehow Caleb is even more nervous the second time he enters the Devil’s Den, mostly because now he has a good idea of what might happen in here, but he’s not sure which of the many scenarios he has anticipated will actually happen, or which of them is actually the worst. He hesitates at the door. Whether Molly truly likes him or not, they tried to teach him to be brave. He squares his shoulders and walks inside.

Some of the flyers on the wall have changed, but otherwise the interior is much the same. Even Essek the drow is still behind the desk. He gives Caleb that time-slowing smile as a greeting.

“And how can I help you this evening?” he asks with a hint of knowing in his eyes.

Caleb swallows. “I have an appointment with Molly. Mollymauk. At six.”

Essek chuckles. “So they didn’t emotionally scar you too badly? I’ll have to let them know they’re going soft.” He pulls out the clipboard with the same forms as before, and when Caleb is finished Essek gestures him out to the lounge again. Caleb tries not to seem like the nervous wreck he currently is as he goes to find a place to sit.

The wait is agonizing. He simultaneously wants to scamper back home with his tail between his legs and sprint upstairs to the room Molly might be in to see them sooner. The lounge is empty except for himself. A handful of people are at the bar, but as the months grow colder fewer people are venturing from their homes in search of entertainment. Perhaps if it were one of the nights when the Devils' Den hosts an event it would be more lively, but Caleb specifically scheduled this appointment to avoid those.

His ears perk up at the sound of familiar heeled boots making haste in his direction. He turns and there before him, all smiles and beauty, is Mollymauk. Today they’re done up in shimmering metallic colors, their tight pants appearing to be made of quicksilver that’s as fluid as the tiefling wearing them, and their sequined crop top shifts between blue and green in the lounge lights as they weave through the seats to get to him. Their smile is framed by silver lips, their ruby eyes lined with gold, the hands they reach out to him are tipped with rainbows, each nail a different mirror-bright color. Even their horns and tail are more laden with bands and bangles than the last time. The timidly hopeful part of Caleb’s mind wonders if Molly is trying to impress him. If so, they have.

Caleb gives himself over to the embrace Molly offers without a word exchanged between them. Jasmine and sandalwood in his nose. He hasn’t smelled this scent in almost a month and yet just this initial dose of it carries the memories of feelings Caleb has overanalyzed so much he could no longer remember what they originally were. His chest swells with a deep breath that pours joy and relief and fondness into his blood.

Molly holds him just long enough to say, “It’s so good to see you.” Then they step back, perfect pointed teeth bared in a delighted grin. “Ready?”

“Yes.” Already Caleb’s mind is shifting over to its relaxed obedient state. He can’t let it. He has to be sharp, analytical. If Molly is playing games he has to know so he won’t be the one to lose. And yet it’s so easy to submit to their smile and let them take his hand to lead him upstairs. Their skin is so warm, their touch so welcome, Caleb’s resolve slips further and further with every step. He just wants to be in their lap, nuzzling them adoringly while they run their fingers through his hair and pamper him with kisses.

_Focus, Ermendrud._

The use of his old last name brings him out of the haze. It reminds him not only of who he is but also what he has done, what he _told_ Molly he has done. That shatters any fantasy he has about a long-term affair. The fact that they greeted him so warmly despite his previous confession is a clue that this is all an act. How could they possibly be so happy to see him when they know the depth of his sins? The bubble of joy lifting his heart pops, sending it crashing back to reality.

They go to the same room as before. The sandalwood scent draws him in with a promise of comfort and fulfillment. Caleb wishes he could be as naive as he was during his first visit, only worried about what sorts of punishment Molly had in store for him. Now he worries that whatever choice he makes before he leaves will be the wrong one and it’ll hurt him or Molly or both.

Molly notices his hesitation. Their smile fades. “Caleb? Are you alright? Did something happen?”

Caleb can’t look them in the eye. He doesn’t want to see dishonesty there, or worse. “Molly, c— Before we begin, can we...erm, _establish_ some things?”

“Yeah. Yeah of course. Whatever you need. Come, sit down.”

They sit in the room’s two chairs. Molly leans forward with their elbows on their knees, listening intently. Caleb still can’t bear to look at them directly. “I— I wanted to— Um...” He wrings his hands. “Molly I want very much to believe what you told me at the end of our last session, a-about my feelings and yours, but I am suspicious that you were, uh, leading me on so I would book more sessions with you.” He chuckles nervously. “Clearly it worked, somewhat, but...but um, this was mostly to prove to myself that... well, that you couldn’t possibly have meant what you said.” Molly inhales to speak, but Caleb cuts them off, intentionally not focusing on their reaction to his statement. “I understand if you didn’t. This is your job. You earn money from people like me, and that’s fine. But despite trying for a month to tell myself my feelings weren’t real, the moment I laid eyes on you again they all came back. Just— Just keep that in mind, okay? Maybe use it while you puni— er, _discipline_ me today.” Then he sits back, quiet, waiting, braced for the truth.

There’s a moment of silence. Caleb peeks at Molly. Their hands are folded, their thumbs rubbing together. Their head is bowed so he can’t see their face clearly, but they look…despondent? “Caleb…” There is a definite sadness in their voice. That wasn’t what he was expecting and his heart clenches in sorrow. “Oh, Caleb, I’m so sorry. I’m not sorry for my actions, absolutely not. If we hadn’t cuddled, or if I hadn’t kissed you the way I did, said the things I did, I would have slapped myself every day until I saw you again, _if_ I ever did. No, no I’m sorry that the life you’ve led has made you doubt anyone could give you that kind of affection without trying to manipulate you. I’m good at bullshitting people, I’ll admit that, but…but I like you, Caleb. I thought you weren’t coming back and when Marion forwarded your email to me I screamed so loud my housemate thought I’d won the lottery or something.”

More lies. They have to be more lies. And yet… “But you know what I’ve done,” Caleb says. “You know why I came here for punishment. How could you possibly… _like_ someone who has done such a thing?”

Molly smiles. “Because we’re not defined by our mistakes, but how we choose to fix them. There really isn’t anything you could do to fix yours, sadly. You kept the truth about it a secret, which is understandable if you were young when it happened. You were probably so scared. But the secret has been eating at you, making you more afraid, so you trusted a stranger to hurt you until you felt like you had suffered enough to set things right. And while you didn’t tell me everything, you were willing to admit things to me, which means you might be ready to come clean, if you find a little more courage. I promised I would help you find that courage. I caught glimpses of who you are under your pain and I want to help set that side of you free.” They reach out their hand. “Will you let me help you, Caleb?”

Caleb wants to tuck his hands under his arms. Molly’s eyes are so…so kind, so warm, so _sincere_. How that shade of red can convey so much he’s not sure, but it’s there. He puts his trembling hand on Molly’s. They curl their fingers around him and smile. “I am…still not sure wh— what this is,” Caleb says. “I…want to…be someone you like, because _I_ like _you_ , but…but I don’t know…” He frowns. “This… This couldn’t possibly work outside this room, could it?”

“It might,” they say, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “We could try. I get the feeling we should discuss this before we’re all hopped up on hormones.” They grin. “It won’t be included in your half-hour, I promise. Though I _did_ keep the rest of my evening clear for you.”

 _Thuh-_ WHUMP. Caleb’s heart swells with one heavy beat. Then it deflates once more. “What if we…we do try it then decide it’s best if we don’t see each other again?”

Molly slumps their shoulders in forlorn resignation, but they don’t let him go. “That might be the case, but I really hope it isn’t. There was something between us, Caleb. I know you felt it as much as I did. I’ve liked my clients before, been attracted to several of them, but whatever this was, I—” They bite their lip. “This is going to sound a little strange, so forgive me, but…but I kinda wanted to take you home and keep you as a pet.” Noting Caleb’s sudden flushed stare, they add, “Not in a demeaning way! Pretty sure I told you how much I dislike the notion of one person _owning_ another. I mean I wanted you to be somewhere safe where someone could take care of you and give you the affection you need whenever you needed it. And, well, if that person was me then…I’d have liked that.”

It takes Caleb a moment to come back to his senses. His heard is beating so fast it’s a wonder he hasn’t passed out. Once he remembers how to move his limbs he hastily fumbles to get the piece of paper out of his pocket. “I-I-I made a, uh, a list of th-things I would have liked to do, if-f-f we actually erm, did this.” He thrusts it out to Molly. “Here. Item number three.”

Molly furrows their brow in bemusement and accepts the paper. They unfold it and hold it up with a wrinkle in their nose while they read, as though they’re having a hard time deciphering it. Caleb hopes not. He has rather tidy handwriting, as far as he’s concerned, and he thought he had written the list clearly. After a moment Molly’s eyes widen. The faint ghost of their irises dart faster down along the page, then back up to the top to read it all again. Their lips gradually turn up into a smile. “Oh?”

Caleb’s heartbeat resonates in his throat. His face is burning so hot he’s sure if Molly touched him their hand would feel frigid by comparison. He swallows. “Mhm.”

“Have you changed your mind about any of these now that we’ve had a chance to talk?”

“Well, I’m um…a bit more confident about number three.” Caleb’s hands are trembling. His whole body is trembling. “Th-That is, if it’s the sort of thing you had in mind.”

Molly folds the paper with an impish grin. “It is absolutely something we can do. Did you want to start with that? Or do the second thing then the third thing?”

Caleb wouldn’t be surprised to find out he was levitating. He squirms in his seat and he is still held down by gravity, but just barely. “I— I-I would like that, yes. Please.”

Molly’s grin grows wider. “Then you’re going to need some privacy while you change, hm?”

As Caleb expected, Molly has everything they’ll need in those drawers of theirs. They assure him that it’s all sterilized between sessions, then step back to let him pick. Caleb, however, insists that Molly select their favorites for him to wear. Once the decisions are made, Molly gives Caleb a kiss on the cheek before stepping out of the room.

“Knock twice when you’re done and three times if you need help, okay?”

“Okay,” Caleb says, though how he manages to speak with no air in his lungs he’s not sure.

It does take Caleb a few minutes to figure some things out. He wishes he had a mirror, though seeing himself like this might intimidate him too much. With his clothes tucked under the bed and after a moment of calming breaths, Caleb knocks twice on the door. Molly slips in, opening the door just enough to fit their body through. They turn to look at Caleb and freeze. Their eyes light up and Caleb swears he hears them inhale a soft gasp.

“Well, darling?” they ask. “Are you sufficiently humiliated?”

Caleb casts his eyes to the floor. His bare legs press together as though that will cover him somehow. He has to make a conscious effort to breathe, since his body’s main priority seems to be pumping blood at a pace and intensity to maintain the blush that spreads all the way down to the studded leather harness across his chest. A tiny amount also flows to his cock, but his junk has retreated into the confines of the blue satin panties Molly chose for him and even if he were aroused he’s certain his erection would grow inwards to avoid exposure. His toes grip into the thick carpet. He clutches himself across his midsection. “Yes.”

“You remember your safewords?”

Caleb nods, eyes still down, not daring to meet the red gaze. “Mhm.”

“Tell me.”

“I— ‘Summer’ is for when I want you to go easier on me. ‘Winter’ is for when I want you to stop.”

“Very good.” Molly kisses his forehead. They test the tightness of the harness and matching collar by putting two fingers between the leather and Caleb’s skin. “Any cold spots? Chafing? Discomfort?”

“They are fine.”

“Good. Then get on your hands and knees.”

Molly’s voice trickles through Caleb’s mind like warm honey, sweet and soothing. That switch inside him goes off again, shutting down any thoughts that aren’t about obeying. He gets on the floor as instructed and waits for further orders.

A leash clips into the loop on the back of his harness. “Have you been a good boy since you were here last?” Molly asks. “Haven’t been hurting yourself without my permission?”

Caleb shakes his head. “No, no I’ve been good.”

“Getting three meals a day? Sleeping well?”

“When I can.”

There’s a tug on his leash. “How often is ‘when I can’?”

Caleb squirms. “Er, well, I work early but I like to stay up and read so some nights I don’t… And… And I get bad dreams that wake me up and I can’t fall asleep again so I read some more…”

Molly kneels beside him. They stroke his hair and he leans up into the touch. “Poor little stray,” they say. “No one’s there to help you when you’re scared? And no one’s there to train you, so it’s no wonder you misbehave so much.” Their nails gently scritch a spot on the back of his head that feels so good he compulsively cranes his neck so their nails will press into him harder. Now he understands why Frumpkin likes getting scratched there too. “I’ve always had a soft spot for strays,” Molly continues. “If my landlord allowed pets I’d have taken in a dozen by now.” They kiss him on the forehead. “Maybe they’d let me keep _you_ , darling. I’d take such good care of you. I’d be sure you’re happy and healthy and you’d get all the cuddles and spanks you could ever want. Does that sound like something you would want? To be happy with me?”

It does. It sounds wonderful. But the cautious anxious voice in the back of Caleb’s head reminds him that, not only has he spent less than two hours with Molly since they met, and not only is this rhetoric most likely just part of Molly’s act, but he’s not allowed to be happy. His whole life has been built around guilt and pain. What other life could he possibly deserve? “I…I don’t think I… _know_ how to…be happy.”

Molly hooks one finger under Caleb’s chin. “I can help you find out.” Their smile warms Caleb to his core. Their eyes lull him back into that obedient haze. Their sweet scent pools in the dark cracks of Caleb’s mind, making him feel light and soft as fresh clay. They almost literally have him wrapped around their finger. It’s only another half an hour. Caleb can let go for half an hour…

“I want to be a good pet for you,” Caleb says. He has fully given in. Even if this is all an act, it’s one he will play along with because it feels good. And he asked for this, specifically this. _#3: I would like to pretend I am your pet. You may put me in a harness or a collar or whatever you see fit. I will do what you say and give you affection, but I would prefer to be a human pet, not an animal. You will decide what that entails._

“Oh, Caleb, I’m sure you’ll do fine. We just need to make sure you’re well-behaved, hm? Let’s see how well you take commands.” They pat him then stand up. “What kind of treats would you like for when you’re a good boy?” Mollymauk asks, going for their drawer of snacks. “I’ve got fruit gummies, or almonds, or chocolates…” They trail off and look to Caleb for an answer.

Caleb doesn’t want any of those. He liked their previous reward system. He’s not in charge here, though, so he’ll have to make a decision. “I— Um…”

The disappointment must show on his face, because Molly frowns in concern. “I’ve got other snacks, maybe not exactly what you want but if you tell me what you like best I’ll see if I have something similar.” When Caleb still hesitates to answer, they add, “Or we could do something else if this too animal-pet for you.”

“ _N-_ Nein, I— I’d like—” Caleb digs his fingers into the thick fibers of the carpet. “I liked getting kisses and touches when I was good…” He winces in anticipation of Molly’s reaction.

“Oh, sweetheart…” Molly gets down beside him again and strokes his hair some more. “I should have known. You’re not starved for snacks, you’re starved for affection, poor dear. Well, food wouldn’t have been a good reward anyway, if you wanted touch more.” They smile. Caleb’s heart dares to flutter. “You did a _very_ good job by speaking up and telling me what you preferred, even when it wasn’t something I offered. That deserves a very good treat.” They gently take him by the chin and kiss him. Caleb melts in their hand, surrendering himself so he can focus on the soft heat against his lips, the scent of jasmine warm and sweet in his nose, the comfort of their closeness. Molly lets him have his fill before they pull away. His only thoughts are of how to please Molly further and earn another reward.

“Thank you, Mollymauk,” he says. Molly likes it when he’s polite.

It works. Molly grins and pats him gently on the cheek. “You’re welcome, darling.” Such brief contact, yet it truly feels like a reward. His skin tingles where they touched him, as though trying to maintain the sensation. “Now, let’s try some basic commands. Sit.”

Caleb sits back on his heels.

“Good,” Molly says with a smile, scritching that spot on his head again. They step back then put out one foot. “Grovel.”

Caleb all but leaps forward to kiss and lick Molly’s boot. It occurs to him that, as a pet, the licking is not quite so odd, even though he said he didn’t want to be a _Haustier_ necessarily, just a person who takes orders in a certain fashion. Molly’s boot is clean and the leather tastes good. He’s already humiliated, so why not? Molly rewards him by stroking his cheek with the flat of their tail. Caleb instinctively switches over to nuzzling and kissing and licking that instead.

A sharp intake of breath above him. “Ohh…such a good pet…” Molly holds their tail still, the spade presented for Caleb’s tongue to play with. They plant their feet more firmly. Caleb rests his hands on their boots and lavishes their tail the way he has seen Frumpkin do to himself. His cat always looked so silly when he washed his tail, sitting almost like a person with his legs splayed out and his tail gripped between his forepaws. Caleb supposes he looks quite silly himself, dressed in nothing but a harness, collar, and panties, ass in the air and chest bowed as he licks a tail that isn’t even his own. It doesn’t have much in the way of a flavor, but the cartilaginous texture is soft yet firm beneath his tongue. The shaft of the tail is fun to lick as well. It’s a bit like licking food off his fingers, except there’s roughly five feet of it and it’s far more flexible. Even the metallic bands feel good against his tongue, though he pays far more attention to the tail than its accessories.

Molly seems to enjoy Caleb’s newfound definition of “grovel”. They slide their tail gradually down Caleb’s chest so he can lick further and further up, until eventually he’s pushed up on his fingertips, the top of his hair nearly brushing Molly’s groin as he curls his tongue around the thicker part of Molly’s tail, the part with the curved ridges down the back. By this point, Molly has wrapped the rest of their tail over and around Caleb’s shoulders, almost forming a second harness. Caleb doesn’t mind. Caleb is barely thinking. Molly hasn’t told him to stop, so he won’t. Molly hasn’t said much at all; aside from the hushed rasp of tongue sliding against skin the only sound in the room is that of Molly’s heavy yet steady breaths.

Then the tail unwinds from Caleb’s shoulders and a hand combs through his hair. “That’s enough, darling. Thank you. Heel.”

Caleb pads on all fours to sit at Molly’s side. Already he wants Molly’s tail in his mouth again. To his mild astonishment and chagrin, he liked giving Molly a tongue bath. He wouldn’t necessarily lick the tiefling from head to toe, but maybe if Molly wanted him to lick up some melted chocolate or whipped cream off their stomach…

“Good boy,” Molly says, patting Caleb’s head. “Beg.”

Caleb sits back on his heels, hands clasped together in front of him. “What should I beg for?”

“Whatever you want, my pretty pet.”

The whipped cream comes to mind again. Even though Molly’s room has always provided exactly what Molly needs, Caleb doubts there’s a can of whipped cream in the mini fridge. He does know one thing for certain that Molly can do for him; it was the first item on the list he gave them. “Can— May I _please_ be spanked, Mollymauk? _Bitte?_ You are so very good at spanking me. It f— _hurts_ so good. Please please _please_ spank me.”

Molly grins down at him, an impish gleam in their eye. “Is this a punishment spanking or a for-fun spanking?”

“…Both?”

Molly chuckles. “Okay, I can do that.” They reach down and brush Caleb’s hair back behind his ears. Their fingertips linger against his cheek in a way that sends shivers down his spine and out through his limbs. “Are you the kind of pet that’s allowed on the furniture or would you prefer to take your spanking on the floor?”

Caleb glances at the bed from the corner of his eye. If he gets spanked up there, it might present an opportunity for post-spanking cuddles. “I am well-behaved enough to be on the furniture.”

“I can tell.” Molly tugs Caleb’s leash and leads him to the bed. Caleb almost tries to leap up the way Frumpkin does. However, he doesn’t think he could do it on his first attempt, or even the second or third, and such clumsiness might ruin the mood. Instead he climbs into position, chest down with his hips presented for Molly to do with as they please. “Good boy,” Molly says. They stroke down the outside of his thigh with the back of their hand. Caleb nearly collapses onto his side from how his insides turn to jelly at their touch. “I’m just gonna go get the paddle. Be patient.”

Patience is not a problem. Caleb has waited a month for this. Even though there were times when he told himself he shouldn’t want it, that didn’t stop him from thinking about it every day for at least a moment or two. His heart is galloping. There’s an uncontrollable smile on his face that he hides in the silk sheets. His whole body tingles with anticipatory goosebumps. He reflexively flinches when he feels something touch his lower back, but it’s just Molly’s fingertips.

“Were you expecting me to start spanking you just like that?” they ask teasingly. “Caleb, sweetheart, I know we haven’t known each other long, but you should have realized by now that I love the foreplay as much as the main event.” Their palm roams Caleb’s backside, though in a manner that Caleb would call respectful. “I at least have to ask you if you’re ready first. Are you ready?”

Caleb nods. He rubs his cheek on the sheets to smooth out a wrinkle and make a comfortable spot to rest his forehead. “Please.”

“Oh, darling, I do also love it when you say ‘please’…” Something hard and wooden taps Caleb on the thigh. “Say it again.”

“Please.”

A harder tap. “Please _what_ , my pet?”

“Please spank me, Molly.”

An even harder tap. “Why should I spank you?”

“Because… Because I am a naughty pet.”

“Oh?” Molly whacks him lightly across the ass. “Do you want to tell me what naughty things you’ve done to deserve a spanking?”

Caleb swallows. He wants to tell Molly the truth, the whole truth. He’s still frightened that Molly might be horrified if they knew the true extent of his transgressions, but at the same time it might convince Molly that he not only deserves but _needs_ to be punished as hard and as painfully as they can manage. It’s too early in the session for that. He’ll start small. “I skipped dinner on purpose the other night.”

Molly spanks him hard enough to make him yearn for more. “That _is_ a naughty thing for you to do. I recall you promising you would take care of yourself.”

“I am sorry,” Caleb says.

“Are you though?” Molly spanks him again, harder. “Or are you just saying that because it’s what I want to hear?”

Caleb shakes his head. He balls his fists full of sheets. “I want you to be…to be proud of me,” he admits. “I want you to tell me that I…am doing good.”

“Aww.” Molly caresses Caleb’s hip with the corner of the paddle. “Developed a bit of a praise kink, have you? Or maybe you always had one and never realized it because you’ve never given anyone the chance to praise you?”

Caleb read about different fetishes in preparation for this session. Praise kink definitely struck a chord with him. He hadn’t put it on his list because he wanted Molly to compliment him genuinely, not because he asked them to. “It feels good…” he mumbles.

“Praise feels good?”

“… _Ja_ …”

Something touches Caleb’s ankle, then wraps around it. It’s Molly’s tail. It squeezes him affectionately, or at least that’s how Caleb interprets it. “If you’ve been a naughty pet, then why should I let you feel good?” There’s no malice or anger in their tone, but there is something expectant.

Caleb once again considers telling them the truth, assuring them that they shouldn’t. He wants to feel good, though. As much as he wants to be punished and he wants Molly to spank him or whip him or just hurt him until he screams his safeword, he also craves the warm tingle down the back of his head when Molly calls him “Good boy”, or the way his heart swells so much he can barely breathe when Molly strokes him and compliments how well Caleb took his beating.

Molly’s tail tightens its grip. “Caleb, darling, you know you have to answer me when I ask you a question.”

“ _Ich wei_ _ß, aber…_ ” Caleb swallows. “I do _not_ deserve to feel good, but I want to. Gods, Mollymauk, I want to…”

A gentle smack from the paddle. “You want to feel good or you want to _deserve_ to feel good?”

Caleb clenches his fingers and toes. The flexed muscles in his ankle strain against the coil of Molly’s tail. “Both.”

Another smack. “What do you think it would take to deserve what you want?”

 _Nothing_ , Caleb tells himself. _Everything._ No matter what he does it won’t erase his past, and with that shadow constantly looming over him there will always be guilt and pain inside him. Feeling good means letting go of that, which he never should. If he forgets what he did and goes about his life as though it never happened, it would be an insult to his parents’ memories and turn him into an unrepentant monster. But Molly wants him to let himself be happy, at least when he’s with them…

A much harder smack. “Do you not know?” Molly asks, their voice taking on a mocking edge. “Is there absolutely nothing you could _possibly_ do to redeem yourself?” An even harder smack. “Come on, Caleb. We talked about this last time. What did I tell you?”

Caleb has pondered Molly’s advice nearly every day since their last session. _Leave every place better than you found it._ But he doesn’t _go_ anywhere. His self-imposed quarantine has become his life to the point where if he isn’t at home he’s either at work, out shopping, or at a therapy appointment. He helps customers at work, but that’s his job. He keeps the shelves tidy in the stores where he shops because he likes order at home as well. He isn’t sure how he could make Dr. Brenatto’s office a better place, since that’s _her_ job. “I…I…”

Instead of a smack Molly drags the flat of the paddle up Caleb’s thigh roughly. “Caleb, I _know_ you remember. _What did I tell you?_ ”

“You told me to leave every place better than I found it,” Caleb blurts. He doesn’t want Molly to think he’s not answering them on purpose. “And I do, or I would, but I—” He curls inward. “I have no life,” he says. “I have no friends. I rarely go anywhere except work and therapy. I do not have the opportunity to leave a place better than I found it. I’m sorry.”

The mattress sags as Molly sits beside Caleb. They tilt his head to look at them and brush the hair out of his eyes. “But you would, wouldn’t you? If, say, someone invited you on a date for dinner and a movie, you wouldn’t be rude to the wait staff at the restaurant, would you? You wouldn’t leave trash all over the theater floor for someone else to clean up, would you?”

Caleb shakes his head. He feels a magnetic pull towards Molly’s lap. His spanking isn’t over yet though, he hopes. Maybe Molly will let him snuggle when they’re done.

“What could you do to leave somewhere better than you found it while you were on this hypothetical date?”

“I— I would leave as big of a tip as I could, because I’m sure someone else would be rude to the people at the restaurant and they are not paid enough to put up with that.”

Molly nods. There’s a smile at the corner of their silver lips. “What else?”

“And at the movie… Um… I would…” It has been so long since Caleb saw a movie in the theater. He honestly can’t remember the last time he went, but he’s certain he went alone. “If I saw someone had left some trash behind I would pick it up on my way out and put it in the trash. Or the recycling, if that is where it belonged.” Caleb tries to think outside the box, come up with an answer that will really impress Molly. “And— And if, while we are waiting in line for tickets or food at the theater, there is someone in line behind us who seems like they need to go ahead of us, I would let them. Erm, that is, if my date agreed.” Quickly he adds, “A-And of course I would give my date as much attention and affection as I could, make sure they are happy at all times.”

“Very good.” Molly leans down to kiss Caleb’s cheek. Caleb sighs with simultaneous relief and need. “See? You know what to do. The question is would you actually do those things?”

“I would,” Caleb says insistently. “I _would_. I never want to hurt anyone ever again, no matter how insignificant it may seem in the moment, because I know how the little pains can grow over time. I don’t— I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore…”

Molly’s tail wraps itself further around Caleb’s ankle. “Oh, sweetheart…” Molly caresses Caleb’s cheek. He leans into their fingers. “Is that why you never go anywhere but your house and work? You’re afraid you might accidentally hurt someone again? That’s… That’s tragic. If only you had someone to go out to places with you and tell you that you’re doing fine. Would that help you?”

Caleb shrugs. He wonders if they’re insinuating that _they_ accompany him and keep him from making mistakes. That sounds so nice. “It might.”

“Then there you go, my good pet.” They smile and kiss him again. “You can’t know if you’re doing good if there’s no one but yourself to determine whether you are or not, and you won’t feel like you deserve to feel good unless you know you’re doing good, so what you need is a friend.”

Something seizes Caleb’s chest like ice but it burns like fire. “W-Would you be m-my friend, Molly?”

Molly grins. “Are you asking me out?”

The burn spreads to Caleb’s face. “Er… I— That is, it sounded like— Um… You were talking like y— you wanted to be th-that friend and I— I—” He presses his face back into the sheets. “I should not have assumed, I’m sorry.”

“Caleb,” Molly says with a little chuckle. “You don’t have to be sorry. I kind of did mean me, but _I_ didn’t want to assume either.” They place one warm hand on Caleb’s back. “I can be your friend, if that’s what you need me to be. I’d like to be. It doesn’t have to be a date, we can just go out because we want to go out together. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“I want it to be you.” The words tumble out of Caleb’s mouth the moment he thinks them. “I— I want you to be the one who…who tells me when I am being good or bad.”

Molly’s smile sweetens. Their eyes glow like embers that warm Caleb’s soul. “I want you to be able to know that for yourself, but since I _do_ specialize in discipline and teaching naughty pets like you how to behave, I wouldn’t mind being around to advise you when you need me to.”

Caleb buries his face back into the sheets. He’s on the verge of simultaneously giggling like a lovestruck teenager and hyperventilating at the thought of Molly actually wanting to go out with him.

“Are you okay?” Molly asks.

“ _Ja_.” Caleb speaks up so Molly can hear him through the muffling mattress. “I um… I would like to be spanked some more, _bitte_. For fun, this time.”

“Okay,” Molly chuckles. They tousle his hair before they stand up. Their tail remains wrapped around his ankle. “Same as usual, I’ll spank you harder and harder and you tell me when it’s hard enough. Sound good?”

“Mhm.”

“Good boy. And when we’re done I have a suggestion for what we could do next.”

Caleb is intrigued. If it were something else he had written on his list, Molly would have mentioned it before. His curiosity is put on the back burner when Molly resumes spanking him. There’s a subtle yet definite difference in the way Molly wields the paddle compared to when they were spanking him as a punishment. Something about it makes it more enjoyable, even as Molly increases the intensity to the point where Caleb knows he’s going to have welts and bruises again. Strange as it seems to him, he actually is having fun. When Molly strikes him in just the right way, Caleb waits until the next one to moan, “Summer.” As predicted, Molly returns to that perfect level and proceeds to work over every inch of Caleb’s ass and thighs.

Much like the last time, Caleb enjoys his spanking to the point where he starts getting aroused. He’s not even at half-mast, but the panties Molly gave him to wear were not meant to be worn by someone with external genitals, apparently, since the tug from his rising cock shifts the fabric enough to let one of his balls slip out to the side. He freezes up, unsure of what to do.

“Oops,” Molly says. “Wardrobe malfunction. Are you comfortable with me fixing that or would you rather do it yourself?”

Caleb can’t quite form sentences, both due to his chagrin and from the pleasure that melted his brain around the edges. All he can manage is a mumbled, “‘Sokay if you do.”

“Alright then.” Molly deftly tucks Caleb’s wayward ball back up and under the fabric. They run their hand along his package, not in a sexual way, more of a clinical examination. It was like getting checked at the doctor’s, only instead of checking for lumps Molly was checking for any other bits of Caleb that might want to pop out of his panties and adjusting them into a more secure position. Caleb has almost completely lost his erection, much to his relief. Molly’s fingers flitting over his cock cause it to stir again, but they make no comment on it. They merely ask, “Better?”

“Mhm.”

“Do you want to keep going for a few more minutes?”

“Mm _hmm_.”

Molly chuckles. “Okay, darling, but just a little more. Can’t spoil you _too_ much…” They don’t spank him as hard after that, but they do provide light playful banter. “Mmmf, such a pretty arse you have, almost a shame to ruin it like this. Then again, pink is a good color on you. Oh, right there? You like when I hit you there? Well, if you insist… You’re doing so well, darling, keeping your posture like this. Don’t want to miss a single stroke, do you? Can’t say I blame you, I am _very_ good at what I do, after all. I wish I could spoil you with this whenever you wanted it…”

Caleb would love that. He would love to come home from work and let Molly pamper him with these sweet little pains. He would love to fall asleep, exhausted and bruised, safely wrapped in Molly’s arms, the world falling away to a jasmine-scented oblivion around them. He would love Molly even if moments like this were rare between them, their lives filled more with tenderness than torture. It’s not torture though. Torture is designed to take something from its victim, whether it’s information, willpower, or just their sanity. Whatever this is, whatever Molly is doing to him, it’s _giving_ him something, _filling_ him with something. That sour pit in his chest is nowhere to be found. In its place is warmth and satisfaction and a sense of connection to the tiefling he barely knows yet he trusts so whole-heartedly. He toys with the notion of being in love with Mollymauk even though he knows it’s absurd and he finds that it doesn’t seem so impossible after all.

Molly gradually softens their blows until each hit from the paddle is little more than a brief and gentle caress. “Very good,” they purr. A jolt of effervescent electricity courses through Caleb as Molly leans down and kisses him on one stinging cheek, then the other. He whimpers his gratitude. “Lie down flat, darling. I’m going to take my boots off so I can sit up there with you, and I’ll tell you my suggestion for our next activity.”

Though he’s a little sad that the spanking has to end, Caleb hums in contentment as he stretches out on the bed. He scoots to an area where the sheets are cool against his skin. Something desperately lonely in his psyche pretends that this is his life, that he is Molly’s and they live together in this room and after they’re done this session they’ll cuddle and kiss the way they have a hundred times before. Caleb’s rational mind balks at such a fantasy. His heart, however, yearns for it to be reality.

“So,” Molly says, hopping barefooted onto the bed, “I’ve been thinking about what I would want to do with you if you ever came back since our last session.”

“Hrmmmf?” Caleb asks. _Have you?_

Molly sits crosslegged where Caleb can put his head in their lap. They gently stroke his hair, lulling him into a deeper relaxed state. “Mhm, and judging by the list you made, you clearly did some thinking of your own in our time apart. During that time, did you, by chance, read anything about fire play?”

Of course Caleb did. Molly had mentioned it during their last session and curiosity about it had stuck in Caleb’s mind like a thorn. He saw the videos of people with blue fire spreading across their bodies before it was extinguished. It wasn’t exactly what Caleb wanted. In his nightmares the fire consumes him as he tries again and again to break down his parents’ door and save them, but he never truly feels it. He knows he should be in pain, and that causes panic, just not the right kind. He never truly burns or suffers the way he fears his parents did, never experiences that true agony. He won't feel it here either, Molly would never hurt him that way, but he is curious about how close they could get.

“ _Ja_ , I…I read a little.”

“Does it sound like something you want to try?”

Last time Molly had said fire play wasn’t their area of expertise. Curious though he may be, he doesn’t want Molly’s room to share the same fate as his childhood home just because neither of them were properly prepared. “If… If you think you could, safely.”

Molly grins. “I’ve been practicing. Ornna showed me. I told her I had a client who showed interest in it — I didn’t name names, we do pride ourselves on confidentiality here after all — but who might not be comfortable booking an appointment with someone else. I’ve got her kit under the bed ready to go, and bottles of water in the fridge I can use to put out any flames that go astray.”

“W-W-Well then…” Caleb isn’t sure why he’s trembling. He’s afraid, certainly, but also excited. It could be either of the two, or some combination thereof. Molly looks down at him with mild concern. Caleb swallows. “We c— _should_ try it, since y-you went through all that t-t-trouble.”

The smile Molly had a moment ago has completely faded to a frown. “Caleb, I know one of our goals was to help you learn to be brave, but please don’t put yourself in a situation you’re not comfortable with for the sake of proving you’re not afraid.”

Caleb nuzzles his head into Molly’s leg. “I am afraid,” he admits. “But I trust you. I want to do this, please. It will— It might help me get…closure.”

Molly tilts their head. They stare at him for a few seconds, their crimson gaze seeing beyond what’s in front of them. Caleb feels it entering through his own eyes, looking into his mind. He hopes Molly isn’t disgusted by what they find there. They blink. “Just a little, then. And I’m going to go as easy on you as I possibly can until I know for sure you can handle it, alright?”

“ _Ja._ That sounds very fair.”

“Good.” Molly smiles again. Their tail tickles under Caleb’s chin. His lips part involuntarily, part of him hoping Molly will let him suck and nibble their tail again. Perhaps later, if he is a very good boy, he can request that as a reward.

First, Molly has Caleb get up so they can lay a sheet of protective Kevlar material over the bed, just large enough for Caleb to lie on. Next, Molly makes sure they have everything they need to put the fire out. They have an open bottle of water, a damp cloth, and a bowl of water to dip the cloth in if it gets too dry. While all this is going on, they have a large candle burning so they can brush the wax over Caleb’s treasure trail and arm hair.

“Getting this off is going to be a right pain in the arse,” they tell him, “but it’s better than having all your hair singed off.” It would have been easier to do this to Caleb’s back, but Caleb insisted on being face-up. He wants to watch. He _needs_ to watch. It’s the only way he can confront his nightmares.

Molly’s tail comes in handy, since it means they can grip the fire wand with it, hold the lighter in one hand, and have the damp cloth in the other. According to them, they’ve practiced this method more often than not with Ornna and they’ve become quite adept at making smooth clean motions with their tail while using the wand.

“I’m going to aim for the parts of you that don’t have any hair, but in case I slip, well, that’s what the wax coating is for. The leather should be fine, but I’ll avoid that too.” They double-check all their equipment, making a few practice swipes with their tail before the wand is dipped in the fuel. “Ready?”

Caleb nods. He wills himself to stop shaking. It works, right up until Molly spreads the first streak of fuel across his stomach. The sterile stench of rubbing alcohol floods Caleb’s senses for a moment, then Molly clicks the lighter and Caleb watches the flames erupt on his skin. His heart leaps in terror. Much like his dreams the fire doesn’t burn as much as he would expect. Not two seconds later, Molly throws the cloth down to extinguish it. Caleb hyperventilates. His hands are clenched white-knuckled in the Kevlar sheet.

“Are you okay?” Molly asks, worry pitching their voice just a bit higher.

“ _Ja, ja ich bin okay._ ”

“Are you sure?”

Caleb takes deep breaths. His nerves are still on edge and probably will be until this part of their session ends, but he can do this. “I-It is neither summer n-nor winter yet, Mollym-mauk.”

Molly puts the cloth down so they can stroke Caleb’s waist. “There’s no shame in admitting defeat. We can stop here and spend the rest of our time cuddling or playing with the ropes or anything else that was on your list.”

It would be so easy to give up, to run away. It was the easy way out before. Caleb won’t take that path again. He flares his nostrils in a resolute snort. “ _Mach weiter_ _._ ”

“Okay, I’ll do a few more…” Molly draws a line down Caleb’s torso, starting just below his harness and avoiding the places with a protective layer of wax. They spark the lighter again and the blue flames reappear. Caleb doesn’t take his eyes off them until Molly throws down the cloth. He blinks. The heat merely tickles. It feels oddly good. Caleb wants more.

“You can leave it for another second or two,” he says.

Molly shakes their head, then thinks for a moment. “ _One_ more second,” they tell him. Caleb nods. “Okay, and _tell me_ if it’s too much.” Molly’s tail brushes the wand in a swirl around his navel. This time they audibly count the seconds after the fuel ignites. Caleb barely hears them. He’s waiting to feel if there’s any difference. The tickle starts to itch, but not in an unpleasant way, more like a concentrated feeling of being out in direct sunlight too long. The cool cloth is a stark contrast when Molly pats it over where he was burning.

Caleb thinks back to that night, his hands wrapped in his jacket as he fumbled for the door handle, orange and red and yellow licking his exposed arms. He was numb to the pain then, too, adrenaline blocking his ability to truly feel it until the heat and his survival instincts drove him back. The jacket was on fire. He flailed to get it off, and fortunately the burns on the back of his hands healed without scars because he managed to free himself before any real damage was done. Inside the room his parents were screaming. He had to do something. He ran to the phone in the kitchen. It was then, as he frantically dialed the fire department, that he noticed the bubbling cracks in his skin. The first thing the operator heard when they picked up the line was Caleb crying in agony and panic.

“ _Hallo? K_ _önnen Sie mich hören? Was ist Ihr Notfall?_ ”

“Caleb? Caleb, hey, come back to me.” Something cool breaks through Caleb’s thoughts. Molly is wiping his forehead with the cloth. “Caleb I don’t think you’re okay. Tap the bed if you want me to stop.”

The present rushes back to fill Caleb’s consciousness. The past stings in his heart and mind like the aftershock of a blow to the chest, but he can see Molly standing over him, brow furrowed and gold-rimmed eyes watching for any sign that he’s alright. Caleb’s breaths are quick and fast. His head swims until he blinks the sensation away. It dislodges tears that he hadn’t realized were there. “I…am…o _kay_ ,” he says, half to Molly and half to himself.

“You went away for a second there,” Molly says. “Your face went blank and you started breathing weird and you were shaking…” They take a deep breath. “I think we should stop. This might be too much for you.”

More tears well and fall in Caleb’s eyes. His skin still tingles in the places the fire touched him. It’s not enough, but they might be right that it’s too much. “One more,” he says. He points with one trembling finger, drawing a line up his forearm. “Here.”

“Your palm too?” Molly asks. They sound nervous.

“ _Ja_ , the palm too.” Caleb needs to see it on his arm and in his hand. It can’t just be a dream anymore, a memory twisted by years of guilt and fear. He has to make it real and get through it.

Molly lightly touches the pale scars on Caleb’s arm. “Are you _absolutely_ certain that’s what you want?”

Caleb grits his teeth and nods. “Do it.”

There’s a heartbeat of hesitation and Caleb wonders if Molly will refuse. Then Molly moves the fire wand from their tail to their hand. They carefully lay a streak of fuel along the smooth underside of Caleb’s forearm and into his palm, not coating the palm entirely, but dabbing a section about the size of a lime.

“It has to be as big as a doorknob,” Caleb insists.

Molly looks to him with an unreadable expression. They correct their work to Caleb’s specifications. Setting the wand down, they pick up the lighter, damp cloth ready in their other hand. They spark the lighter and tap it to Caleb’s arm.

Caleb’s immediate reaction is fear. The nerves in his palm are more sensitive. He spasms. His ears ring with the muted sound of screaming. His breath catches in his chest. His heart is racing so fast it blurs his vision. No, that’s more tears. He clenches his fist, digging his fingers into his burning palm.

“ _Sehanine!_ ” Molly hisses. They quickly smother the flames with the cloth. “Caleb, please tell me that was involuntary.”

Was it? It happened just a second ago and Caleb can’t remember why he did it. Maybe he was trying to put it out himself, maybe it was a tic caused by his anxiety, or maybe he was grabbing for a door handle fifteen years in the past. The fire is gone now. Judging Molly’s posture and the hard look of worry on their face, they won’t be doing that again any time soon. Caleb is sorry. He didn’t mean to frighten Molly. He has no answer for them. It’s frustrating. He turns his head away as he begins to cry.

“Hey, you’re alright.” The bed shifts. Molly is beside him, stroking his hair. Gods, how can such a simple gesture feel so wonderful? “We’re done with that for now. I’ve got some lotion for the burns as well as the stuff for your bruises. Can you move?”

Caleb is exhausted. With some effort he rolls himself off the Kevlar sheet so Molly can fold it up and put it away. He’s face-down. The silk sheets under his face get soaked quickly. Given what Molly puts him through, it’s no wonder he becomes so emotionally raw, but he usually isn’t one to weep like this. He cried often after his parents’ death. Some nights he couldn’t sleep because of it. He thought they would send him to an asylum for being hysterical if they didn’t send him to jail for what he had done. He grew a callous over the years, a psychological scar that never stopped prickling, but at least he didn’t cry every time he thought of his Mama and Papa.

Now he’s here, in a room that smells of sandalwood smoke and Mollymauk, burns on his chest and bruises on his hips, once again broken beyond what he expected when he first walked in. Dr. Brenatto would tell him that he’s feeling these emotions so strongly for a reason and shouldn’t be ashamed of them. He’s not ashamed, not really. It’s his fault for pushing himself. Molly only had his safety and comfort in mind this entire time, but Caleb told them to ignore their own intuition to satisfy his needs. Those needs have changed. He had his time with the fire, and he survived. He didn’t handle it very well, clearly, but he hadn’t been a coward. Yet he’s shaking again. The new need inside him yearns for something he can’t name. He whimpers in a meager call for help.

In an instant, Molly is back at his side. “What is it, darling?” they ask, gingerly touching the small of his back. “Are you okay?”

He’s not, because despite this need being so overwhelming and all-consuming, he doesn’t know what it's for. He merely whimpers again to indicate his distress.

“I’m here, Caleb. You’re going to be alright. What do you need?”

The words still won’t come. It’s worse because he knows it has something to do with Molly’s hand on his back, but stronger, deeper. He musters the strength to reach out and shakily grope for Molly’s other hand.

They interlace their fingers with his. “Do you need a hug?”

Caleb whines in affirmation.

“Oh, sweetheart, of course.” Molly climbs onto the bed and scoops Caleb into their arms. At once the ravenous need that had briefly tormented Caleb melts away. He holds tight to Molly to anchor himself so he won’t get swept back into that lonely void. As though sensing his fear, Molly’s tail wraps around his waist. Caleb now wishes he had the words to express his gratitude, but his mind simply cannot form them.

Molly strokes his hair with soft soothing hums. “It’s okay, Caleb. You’re safe. I was worried about you, but you got through it. I’m so proud of you, _so_ proud. You’re _so_ strong now. Hey, shh, it’s alright. You can cry, you know I don’t mind.”

Caleb’s whole body quivers. Once again all his emotions are unleashed at once. He’s relieved to be in Molly’s embrace, ecstatic that Molly is proud of him, distraught from facing his trauma, and upset that it took him this long to find Molly. Where were they when he needed this strength after his parents died? The strength to cope and the strength to tell the truth? He can tell it now, though he’s so afraid of what Molly will think. He trusts them, and if they hate him it will make their parting easier if this is indeed the last time they meet.

He buries his face in a warm shoulder and sobs, “Molly I killed my parents.”

Molly doesn’t push him away. They don’t make any sounds of alarm or disgust. They don’t even freeze. Instead they hold him tighter. “I figured. You gave me plenty of clues last time and I’ve had weeks to think them over. What happened tonight confirmed my suspicions. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

Caleb does, but every time he thinks he has stopped crying he remembers that night and starts up again.

Tender pressure on his head, a long kiss from Molly. “You said it was an accident. I believe you. One time during a bar fight I hit a guy hard enough to make him go blind. He recovered after a while, but I spent some time in jail for that because I didn’t have anyone in my life who cared enough to bail me out. We lash out when we’re angry sometimes, and we don’t always consider the effect it will have on others. You’re not a murderer, Caleb. You didn’t mean for it to happen. That doesn’t undo anything, though, and you’re allowed to be upset about it. You can cry as much as you need to, I’ll be right here.”

Caleb has further reason to cry because Molly is being so _kind_ and _patient_ and _understanding_ even though Caleb doesn’t deserve _any_ of that. He’s so grateful for Molly yet he still doesn’t know if any of this is genuine or just part of their job. He wants it to be real, he wants someone to be there for him in moments like this but at the same time he doesn’t want to be a burden. And so he cries, because as good for him as this may be, he knows he can’t keep it.

Molly fiddles with the leash loop on Caleb’s harness. “Do you want this off? You’ve been a very good pet for me and I don’t think you need it anymore.”

“ _N-Nein_ , ‘ssssfine.” Caleb is used to it now. Even though it offers so little protection he knows he would feel naked and vulnerable without it. He already is, but he’s not ready to remove this last token of security. However, Molly’s embrace is doing a good job of making him feel safe and secure. He wants to keep being Molly’s pet. He wants his place to be here, snuggled against them, utterly content to let them take care of him. _Selfish_. Of course Molly doesn’t actually want him as a pet. Caleb is too high-maintenance and has nothing to contribute to a relationship. That’s why he’s alone, and will always be alone. He squeezes his eyes shut and curls in on himself.

“Oh, darling, what’s the matter?”

Caleb sniffles. He shakes his head.

“Okay, you don’t have to talk about it. I’m still here. Take your time.”

Hope and doubt rage war in Caleb’s mind. There’s no way Molly treats every single client this well, so they _must_ have feelings for him. But they have said several times that they’re very good at their job, so maybe this is just the way they normally are and Caleb simply has never known enough people who are kind to him to understand how someone could be like that all the time. _But_ Molly _also_ said they kept their evening open just for him, and they wanted to see where things went between them, and wouldn’t it be better business for Molly to not base his schedule around one person? _But_ they could be lying to make him feel special, get him hooked on their company thinking there will be something more in it for him. He doesn’t know what to think anymore.

After a short while, Molly scritches that nice spot on Caleb’s head. “Caleb, can I tell you something a little…unorthodox?”

“Hmm?”

“Of all the clients I’ve had, you’re the one I’ve wanted to get to know the most.”

Caleb chuckles sadly. “No, you don’t.”

“Yeah I do.” Molly tilts his chin up to meet their eyes. “I’ve always been good at reading people. Helps a lot in this line of work. And while you’re not exactly an open book, Caleb, you’re not as shut tight as you think. You act like you’re fine with hiding away yet you’re begging people to see the real you.”

Caleb tugs himself out of Molly’s grasp and hangs his head. “The real me is not the sort of person others would like to know more about.”

“That’s what you’ve put on the cover, but when I look at you I see pages and pages of loneliness and yearning and a good tender heart that wishes it could be shared with someone. You really are like a stray at the pound that snapped and snarled when you were first brought in so they labeled you as a problem and now you’ve been passed up or ignored so many times you’ve given up hope that one day someone will choose you.” They reach out and stroke his hair with a sad smile. “How can you be sure you’re not housebroken when it’s been so long since you had a home?”

Caleb tries to think of the last person he really considered himself close to. There’s Frumpkin, but he doesn’t count. He had a few friends in college, tried to go out to bars to pick up partners who could distract him for the night, but all that did was confirm how little he actually cared for sex and how much that bothered people. He shrugs.

“Exactly.” Molly kisses his forehead. “I know it sounds weird, since this is literally the second time we’ve been together, but I’d like to give you a home. Not necessarily a permanent one, since that really would be rushing things, but a safe place you can come to when everywhere else feels cruel or unkind to you.” Their eyes glow with affection. “I promise I would never be cruel or unkind to you, not like that. I’ll spank you or whip you or tell you vicious truths if you ask me to, but I never, _never_ want to see you in real pain. My heart would shatter.”

“Th-Thank you.” Caleb doesn’t know what else to say. His mind wanders to fantasy again, letting hope win the war for this one battle at least. He sees himself and Molly sitting on a cozy couch together, his head in Molly’s lap while Molly strokes his hair. He’s wearing a simple collar and there’s a large cat bed in the corner just for him, but he knows in this imagined world that it’s just for show and Frumpkin uses it most; Caleb really sleeps in bed with Molly every night. Snow falls gently outside the window. The room they’re in is warm, made warmer still by Molly’s presence. Caleb closes his eyes and leans into Molly. He can picture it so clearly, and he wants it so badly…

“Molly?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Be honest with me, please.”

“…About what?”

Caleb pulls back with the intent of looking Molly in the eye. His impulsive courage wavers and he finds himself staring at their lips instead. “D— Do you like me?”

Molly chuckles softly. “Of course I do.”

“Honestly?”

“As honest as I’ve ever been, and probably more so, in fact.” They cup his cheek. “You want the truth? The truth is I think I’m falling in love with you, bit by bit. I’d like to see all the little bits of you to know if I love them too. I think I know the answer, but if you don’t feel the same way about me, you don’t have to. I’m an adult — allegedly — and I can handle rejection. It would hurt for a while, coming from you, because I _really_ wish I could be in your life, but I would understand. Not a lot of people want to associate themselves with people like me outside of spaces like this.”

“I would.” Caleb lifts his gaze to meet Molly’s, except now Molly is the one with their eyes downcast. “I would very much like to associate myself with you. You are… You are _fascinating_ , and _kind_ , and…” He takes a deep breath. He might as well say it. “I think I am falling in love with you, too.”

Molly beams at him. Gods their smile is so lovely. “Honestly?”

Caleb smiles back. “ _Ja_ , honestly.”

“Then…can I kiss you? Not as a reward, but because I want to?”

“ _Bitte_.” Because Caleb wants them to, too.

This kiss is different from all the others Molly has given him. It’s not so much given as offered. Molly’s lips don’t quite meet Caleb’s at first. Caleb has to close that miniscule gap between them. Somehow that makes it all the more meaningful. Their lips are as soft and sweet and warm as ever, but the energy behind it isn’t Molly’s usual overpowering domination. The two of them are equals in this kiss. They match each other’s intensity, letting it build and build until Caleb has one hand gripped around Molly’s horn and the other gently yet firmly squeezing their thigh for balance while Molly holds Caleb by the hair and the small of his back. Both their tongues have stayed in their respective mouths, but the kiss is nevertheless passionate. Caleb’s heart overflows with love and affection. It drowns all his doubts and sets him free to want and need and give whatever he thinks will please Molly. He adjusts his hand to a higher position up Molly’s thigh so he can lean in harder.

Molly makes a soft yet sudden noise of alarm. They cross their legs and pull away but don’t let him go. “Caleb, I—”

“Hm?” Caleb nearly falls forward in his attempt to keep his lips pressed to Molly’s. He’s close enough that he can better see those ever-so-faint irises glancing down and a soft rosy color blooming on their cheeks. “ _Was ist_ — What is the matter?”

“I um…” They clear their throat. “I got too excited and then your hand moved and I didn’t want… I know you’ve gotten hard during our sessions too but I also know you’re ace and it wasn’t— it wasn’t _professional_ of me. I didn’t want to put you in a situation that would make you uncomfortable.”

“Oh, is that all?” While Caleb can’t deny the heat burning under his own skin, he’s a little surprised to see Molly flustered by this. “I’m not repulsed or intimidated by sex, Molly. It’s just…not what I think of when I want to be with someone?”

Molly shifts their legs tighter together. They worry their silver-painted lower lip with one fang. “What _do_ you think of?”

Caleb shrugs. “This.”

“Just this?” Their tail flicks against his side. “You just want to cuddle until the end of time?”

“ _Na ja…_ ” Snow falling softly outside. Warm and cozy in Molly’s lap. Seeing Molly smile. Making them laugh. Making them proud. Coming home to safety and comfort. Welcoming them into bed when they come home after a late shift at the Den. Waking up in their arms, tail wrapped around his waist and the scent of jasmine and heated tiefling skin pressed right to his nose. “I… I think of other things too…”

“I’d love to hear about those things.”

Caleb’s blush deepens. He tugs at his collar. “No, they are erm… It’s just silly things, really.” He closes his eyes and hangs his head. “They aren’t things you would want to do with a murderer.”

Molly kisses his cheek. Their lips are almost cool on his flushed skin. “I already told you I don’t think of you as a murderer. What happened is terrible, yes, and I’m sorry you’ve had to live with that guilt, but you can’t let one mistake define who you are. If you want to try things that might make you a better person, I really do want to hear about them. Especially if they involve me.”

There’s no hint of command in their tone, their dominating persona set aside for the moment, and yet Caleb feels compelled to obey. He trusts Molly. They seem to genuinely not care about his past. Maybe someday they’ll decide they _do_ care, and they’ll leave him brokenhearted, but that will be a new punishment for his sins, one painful enough to maybe make up for what he did. With no further prompting, Caleb tells them about the various fantasies he has had about the two of them and what a relationship between them might be like. Despite his growing embarrassment the more he admits, the confessions come easier and easier until there’s practically no filter between his brain and his mouth. Molly never scoffs nor laughs nor rebukes any of Caleb’s suggestions. If anything, their eyes shine brighter and their smile grows wider as they listen.

The familiar awkward anxiety snarls in Caleb’s chest when he feels he has rambled too long. He concludes with, “…That is, if any of that sounds like something you would want, too.” He would very much like to cover his face with a pillow now, not only to hide his self-conscious expression but to hopefully absorb the massive amounts of heat radiating from his whole upper body.

Molly kisses Caleb’s shoulder, then his neck, then just below his ear and murmurs, “I want everything you just said and then some.” Darting backward they hastily add, “But not sex! If that’s not what you want then I would never ask you to…” They trail off. Their tail tip flutters against Caleb’s waist.

“You could ask,” Caleb says. His candid honesty, it seems, had yet to run out. “Most of the time I would most likely say no, but perhaps if I were in the right mood and you made a convincing argument I could be persuaded to…perform certain tasks.”

“I wouldn’t want to persuade you,” Molly says. “I would want _you_ to approach _me_ so I know it’s something you want and are comfortable with.”

Caleb scratches under his collar. The skin on his neck is growing clammy with sweat. His heart pounds heavily in his ribs. Letting out a deep breath, he reaches over and cups his hand around Molly’s groin. Molly inhales a sharp gasp. Their eyes go wide. Something stirs beneath Caleb’s palm. “I don’t feel the urge to fuck you,” Caleb explains, “but I certainly wish to please you. If that involves touching you like this, or something a bit more, it would be like…like when I was licking your tail earlier. That could have been an erotic act, but I didn’t think of it that way. You sounded like you were enjoying it and I was…erm…having fun, for lack of a better term, so I kept going until you told me to stop.”

Molly blinks at him. Their face is a lovely deep shade of pinkish lilac. They swallow. “If that is what my good pet wants to do, then I suppose that’s alright…”

“It is.” Caleb does have one urge at the moment; he needs to kiss Molly more than he even needs to breathe. He leans forward. Molly is right there to greet his mouth with their own.

“Gods,” Molly exhales. “If I didn’t love you before, I sure as shite do now.”

Caleb grins. “I believe I feel the same way.”

Molly agrees to a brief cuddle under the sheets, but they insist they have to put cream on Caleb’s bruises and burns before the damage sets in. Even so, they don’t disagree when Caleb mumbles, “One more minute _bitte_ …” in response to them telling him it’s time to get up. The collar might be getting uncomfortable, and his chest hair might be snagging on the sequins of Molly’s shirt, and yes he is still partially coated in wax that tugs at his skin, but the bliss of being here with Molly knowing that their feelings for him aren’t an elaborate lie is something Caleb doesn’t want to let go of just yet.

It does feel strange when they unclip his harness and collar. In addition to the reddish streaks from the fire play, there are light indentations on his chest from where the leather was pressed into his skin. Those are satisfying to scratch though. What’s even more satisfying is lying back and letting Molly apply lotion to his burns after they've scraped all the wax away. The burns don’t need healing the way the ones on his arms did — which is a relief because the treated bandages Caleb had to wear for months while also navigating his first semester were terrible — but they do feel dry and itchy like sunburns and the lotion soothes that right away. Then Molly has him get back on his elbows and knees so they can rub the same cream from last time onto the tender parts of his hips and thighs.

“Do you still have the jar I gave you or did you use that all up?” Molly asks.

“There was a little more left over.” Caleb had barely used it. He punished himself for thinking too much about Molly by purposefully bumping his bruises into table corners and shelves until they had healed themselves too much to provide that spike of pain.

“I’ll give you this one to take home anyway.” Molly playfully swats their tail against Caleb’s ass. “Then I won’t have to bring my own if I come visit.”

Caleb closes his eyes and hums through his grin to show his delight. He likes the thought of Molly coming to visit him. He wants them to meet Frumpkin. He wants Molly sitting at his kitchen table while he cooks something for them. His blissful domestic fantasies are interrupted by one lingering shred of doubt. “Will seeing me outside of the Den get you in trouble?”

“It shouldn’t, unless I do something that would get me in trouble anyway.”

“But isn’t there a, uh, conflict of interest? Like how doctors aren’t supposed to date patients?”

“Well, yeah, but Marion had a daughter with one of her subs, and she would have married him if his family didn’t drag him home to take over their estate when his dad died, or so the rumors go.” They lift the hem of Caleb’s panties to massage a little cream on a spot near his tailbone. “We’re discouraged from openly dating clients because others might get jealous or we might use up professional time with personal pursuits. However, there’s nothing that says we can’t have fun with our actual partners. After all, a chef still has to cook when they’re at home, and mechanics have to fix their cars, and their partners can benefit from that. A dom with…urges and habits is going to do what they want to do in their off-time that occasionally resembles what they do professionally. So what I guess I’m saying is…” Molly hops onto the bed and lies on their side, head propped up on one hand as they smile at Caleb. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I’m going to have to insist that this is our last session together.”

Sadness creeps into Caleb’s heart for a fraction of a second before he understands what Molly means. His breath catches in his chest. He wants to believe them so badly and so he does. That last doubt trying to drag him back to his isolation can go fuck itself. Molly wants him. He wants Molly. He has Molly right here, right now, right where he wants to be. He grins with a soft laugh. “ _Ja_ , I would have to agree.” They kiss to seal their agreement. Caleb feels a beautiful future opening before him.

Molly, however, has one condition that they bring up while Caleb gets redressed. “I’m not going to stop working here,” they tell him.

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Caleb says. “This is your livelihood. You enjoy it. I would never ask you to quit.”

“Are you sure? You’re not going to get jealous or change your mind later?”

Caleb shrugs. “I have thought about this for a month. _Ja_ , it would not be a er, _conventional_ relationship, by most standards. That does not mean we cannot make it work. It will be easier for both of us if we do not try to control what the other does when we are apart from each other. Even if I only get to see you once a month like this, at least I get to see you.”

Molly sighs with a smile. “ _Guh_ , you have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that. So many bloody people tell me that I should date them exclusively and stop working here because they can ‘provide for me’. I _like_ being self-sufficient, thank you very much.” They take Caleb’s hand and gently squeeze it. “And I promise you’ll see me more than once a month. Maybe we can’t do this every day, but at least once a week? If that works for you? I won’t be available for dinner dates, obviously, but depending on your work schedule we could probably get lunch together sometimes.”

“I was thinking of finding other work anyway,” Caleb says. “Perhaps I will look into something that makes my schedule more flexible or aligns better with yours.”

“…You’d do that for me?”

“ _Natürlich_.” Caleb lifts Molly’s hand to his mouth to kiss it. “I am told it is time I took my life in a new direction. If that direction lines up with the way you are going, then…”

Molly covers their mouth with their other hand. Something sparkles in the corner of their eye before it’s blinked away. “It’s official. I love you.”

Caleb grins. He wants to laugh with joy but holds it back lest Molly think he’s making fun of them. He kisses them instead. They enthusiastically kiss him back. It’s a struggle, since Caleb has not said this out loud to anyone for over a decade, but he whispers, “I love you, too, Mollymauk.”

It takes them another few minutes, during which they exchange phone numbers and Molly provides Caleb with water and a snack, before they’re ready to head back downstairs. Molly, towering over Caleb once again in their high-heeled boots, struts with their usual air of importance and power through the lounge to the front desk, however their tail draws happy loops behind them that Caleb watches with adoration.

“Essek,” Molly announces when they reach the desk. They point to Caleb. “He is never allowed back here. He is an absolute nuisance and if he ever steps foot in this building again I want you to tell him to fuck off.”

Caleb freezes in shock and confusion. So it _was_ a lie this whole time?

Then Molly leans down to peck Caleb on the lips. They grin at him. “Text me later though, okay?”

Caleb is still frozen, though his face feels like he just stuck it in an oven. “O-Okay.”

At the desk, Essek slaps his palm to his face. “Damn you, Tealeaf, now I owe Jester a box of doughnuts…”

“You better tell her she’s sharing those with me!” Molly exclaims. “I call dibs on anything with way too much chocolate and cream for its own good.” They turn and give Caleb one last scritch on his favorite sensitive spot. “Better hurry along, darling, or you’ll miss your bus. Be safe out there and let me know when you get home.”

“Okay.” Caleb’s brain is broken. It has processed far too many emotions in the past ten minutes. He’s going to need a strong cup of tea after this.

True to his word, Caleb texts Molly as he unlocks his front door. He is instantly greeted by a loud demanding meow from Frumpkin. He kneels and rubs his cat’s soft fur.

“ _Frumpchen_ I have so much to tell you…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was longer than I anticipated and the ending changed several times due to _somebody_ deciding he was going to push his limits and _somebody else_ being overcome with the need to love and cherish him at every turn.
> 
> Will there be a Chapter 3? Who knows? I could be minding my own business one day and suddenly I get the inspiration for it. Someone also requested stories of other M9 pairings in this setting and Fjord _absolutely comes here to get pegged by Jester at least once_. However, that would change the rating and I want this to stay an M fic so I might make that a separate thing and bundle it with this in a series. Again, who knows? If you have opinions on the matter, please leave a comment about them and maybe you will sway me in one direction or another. Until then, hope you enjoyed the story so far!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leaves kudos and comments (especially if you want a part 2), and if you want to support my work even more you can find me on Ko-fi under the same name!


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